We are here. Truths explode in our hands.
Another full moon pulled us out of sleep.
We continue to live. Months pass by
like unknown thoughts.
On the street an old friend greets me waving his hand
before he disappears in the crowd.
We open the door of our homes and see
dust floating in the sunlight.
The silence speaks to us.
We listen carefully.
The creaking floorboards under our feet.
Two pigeons in front of the window.
The fridge in the kitchen turns on the motor.
Far‘s what doesn‘t belong to this moment.
The faucet loses one drop of water and
there is nothing else to be said.
Illustration by Galya Popova