children feel but in feeling are helpless, feel helpless.
I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close. neruda.
Posted on Wednesday March 4th
