Fleeting

Shhhh! Just watch. It goes by quickly. Just listen.

The stars are beautiful tonight. Who would have thought? 22nd of August. Surely not a beautiful day? I don't know anyone who was born today, I don't think. Just eight days before, and many days later, but not today.

The sky is full of stars, it is August after all, the gifted month, the gorgeous month. If August were a man, it would be the most beautiful man, the most elegant man.

It's not that late. Every time I look at the clock I'm shocked, and I listen to Debussy once more, one more time, until the day is done. Beauty! Beauty! Isn't that what we all need? What we all feed on?

I don't want to talk to you. Shush. Be quiet. Again! Listen, just listen.

The story is here. The story is every night I've spent with you, every morning I've woken with you, every time I've left. And every time I've told you to leave. That is life. Live. Life. Live. Live life. Life is worth it. Life is beautiful.

Trust. I don't trust anyone yet (no creo en mí todavía), but maybe I will. Maybe it just takes more time.

Music. Yes, I think I need music to survive tonight. Because it's still the 22nd of August, and it's not yet the 23rd.