A minute and a half

Ninety seconds
to dream recklessly. To play with abandon. To fall fervently. To explore the interstitial spaces of a single minute, an hour, a day in the life. To live to the fullest, voluminous lightness, unbearable lightness, intoxicating lightness and weight bearing down your bones, filling you with infinite light.

Ninety seconds
to believe that every gesture has a purpose. Every uttered word leads to the next, just as every step leads to the next gesture, to the next bend in the road, to the next discovery. Stop believing in a single gesture, word, step, and the structure collapses, despair casting its web with wild frenzied glee.

Ninety seconds
to be able to say, I see you. I know you for an evanescent spell. It will not be the same next time. Sidelights blind your eyes. The rush behind closed eyelids. Another body’s heat; the solidity of its weight reminds you to match it, meet it, know it in the isolated infinite space of a moment.