Is life covertly good?

It may very well be, and our perspective being what it is we may never be able to find out. This shabby room, its peeling paint, the curtains tattered and gray with dust — it may be happily sheltering us from a dark storm raging outside, but we can’t tell; the yellowing blinds are drawn.

Our friends may love us, we don’t know; all we know is that we hate them.

There may be hope for everything: are dreams might be still intact. We see the crack that runs through them. There’s no way of telling how deep it goes.

And love might just be lurking happily around that corner, but what face will it assume once get there? How will we know, with all the faces staring blankly just around each corner of each city, which of them was sent for us? And if it is indeed the right corner? We are all like packages sent for each other, but all our post labels fell; now we wander aimlessly, bump like atoms, and we can’t even ask: excuse me, am I for you? Are you for me?

Ah, Sh. We never met, and already I think you hate me. I tried to tell you something but got a little tongue-tied, and you hushed me brusquely and turned away; I stood there after for a while and stared at nothing. I couldn’t tell you how ripe my love for you was already, because you could never agree to understand. No honest woman ever will. But that, often times, is love: a man looking at a woman through a window, and while he is struck, falling, wounded, she never sees his shadow on the floor.

Now I heard you went with a man from the top floors, and I am glad; for suffering things no honest woman should ever suffer, you are now better than honest men. We’ll meet some day, maybe waiting for the elevator. I’ll be the man looking down and trying not to cast a shadow.

1. A forsaken thing hides sadly where it used to be; but you can go back there again.

2. There’s no place for you to rest your head. You can test this anytime: close your eyes and wait.

3. The road gets ever steeper: no step will be easier than the last.

4. There’s glass on the floor and you can’t help being barefoot; and broken hearts never heal.

5. These rules won’t help you.