So...
Working all day in a distracted mood, unable fully to concentrate, anticipating the night. You listen to people but there is something between you and them, not the presence of your love, just memory and anticipation. All the buzz in the workspace seems so... unreal, you can almost measure it mathematically. The larger the distance from your love, the more unreal.
Will the day ever end?
But it does, reluctantly, the day ends and then there you are, at the garden gate or maybe your apartment door and if it's covered with grafitti, you don't care. Inside in the private space, there is nothing to block you from your dearest love, your God. Finally reality.
Because nothing else by comparison is real, no no not hardly, and no one manages to be real except to the extent that he or she also loves this one and approaches, fearfully, full of love that is 100% reflection. So deep that it can barely talk.
Take me.
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