המתת השור

Relationships are sprawled with little clics like the Petit Poucet spread the little white cobbles for him not to be lead astray (a french tale for children). As in a small symphony, one starts with the beginning clic. It is a bright morning light but still not yet flckering. In short, cold at heart. Then some following clic comes between two individuals. It is less of a light more of a covering fire not still yet brought to ember…. Yet another clic, followed with others functionings and some not quite filled but with silence that brings some odd individual to open to another, always timid, not always determined but with an essential search for meanings. From clic to clic, it is maybe the song of a nightingale, or that of a stealing magpie, but a music starts in a song’n start dance. Yes, a dance. Still a dance to be written. There is always a beginning but the end is never known.