We are alone with the other

 She likes me and I like her

We like us

I don’t know anything.

I believe that she doesn’t know about that too.

She says love stuff and I make the same.

She and me both.

We miss each other and search for to be together.  Love is something of a cowardly force that leads everyone not wanting others absent.

To be alone causes panic for these people. To be in yourself. A yourself without roots, anchor, or existence sense of an individuality that is enough auto centered. In the same way it is a pursuit, as are the aims, knowing that they lack something.

The love for to reach fame, glory, a goal produces a repetitive intent of fill a void, the transcendental hole called self-love. In reason of that, we never arrive to completeness awareness, love is in all mode a modular will of to have a witness that release, remembrance our confidence in seek peace, the miror reflexionable for where the love emerges and translight in transcendence. 

It is it clearly an belonging from ethos, community tradition moral or understanding through languages, cultures or idiosyncrasies from reproduction, habits, among other possibilities as well the notion of the lack, this void that subsist in the human-animal race, in this gregarious being that never, in the history could live without other.

I want say the possibility of totality is the singularity that when living alone lives with every aspects of totality, live with other, it is with the language, knowledge, or other forms remarkable from human history. In truth we living with the humankind. In this early motive, we are always alone needing of someone that remembrance us that love the other person while we love ourselves.

I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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