In the space that slowly evolves from the unexpected end of a sentence, when conversation goes away to think about what it has done, when the eye is staring unseeing at a possibility, a moment of time, lost, unborn, gone forever- in that quiet interlude, a whole universe can die and be born again.
I tried again. Marcus, when relationships don’t arrive at a centre, when there is no perfectly arched horizon at which oceans and suns can congregate, then even the uneven sky loses her bearings.
No, he said. After a second, a month, a year. Relationships don’t work because people overthink them.
That most people are capable of such absolute faith in the absent but question the infallibility of human interface probably means that trust is still an evolving emotion, not yet geared to deal with complexity.
Then you have to dumb it down. Keep it simple. Animals do. It’s binary.
Zero or One. Without the frills and flounces. Minus claws and tails.
Works every time.
So Marcus, then there’s no leopard crying on a branch in the savannah, picking petals one by one, off a white flower.
Probably. Probably not.
through the countless stars
a lost moon beam