New York City has the power to shake any sleeping soul. There is a magnet in Manhattan that bristles.
Night comes, and I see the light of millions and millions of stars that may no longer exist, but which nevertheless still shine; is like a love from the past, even though it already passed, it is still there.
I’m waiting for the man I love. He is sort of meteorite, an ordered mathematical accumulation of atoms. He is simply the essence of the Big Bang. When he arrives, I will tell him that once he was nothing. That he never existed, that he was not even alive, that nobody was waiting for him and nevertheless he showed up.