Nothing happens twince





Half Moon Bay, California.
I thought many times that perhaps I would repeat that feeling of uneasiness, at times it enlivened my heart, the simple memory, the memory of that infinite January.

We walk together in a circle of magical energy, we focus the conversation on yesterday and tomorrow; we never plan to meet again, nor to continue with the emotion of idealization. We got lost in complex phonemes and deciphered our meaning as the hours passed

Then we imagined a world that became a paradise where there were no prejudices, no illusions, just a present moment. We looked into each other's eyes for hours, we cried because something was happening in our home, in our hearts. We were those two hearts broken by life; but little by little we were weaving it very carefully, we were that which is not, that which is imagined and that perhaps will not happen again.

We broke the laws of romantic love, and we only followed carnal, visceral instincts. Then we forget about it. Our souls were the ones who spoke in a choir of various languages, Latin always being our mother.

I loved him, and he also loved me; Says a poem I heard a long time ago. I reiterate, people are unique, we never happen twice the same, and no one is replaceable.

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