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| Gavin Evans |
hi
long time
no send
I vanished
I know
what I don’t actually know
is whether I disappeared
myself
or myself
disappeared in me
never mind
not returning to you is perhaps a cowardice
of someone who indulges himself
in his disappearing
I just don’t know
yet
I often
think about sending you something
but I don’t
know what to say
or if I should
or why
shouldn’t I
it seems that every single thing
became distant of these days
one cannot smell and touch and feel
and seeing or listening or cuddling is afar
an enormous garden where nonsense sprouts
nonsense me
nonsense it all
I won’t equate the word all with life
it’s not as vast and vague
as the word life might imply
[life is or is not]
nonsense of being without purpose
a state of nonsensical laziness
working hard as any motionless machinery
purpose
doesn’t necessarily mean meaning
but it put
up a very precise type of joy
the one that
rises from the need
of moving
on towards whatever
so it happened that I gradually became
bewildered
incapable of reaching out
to tell you
the truth
I gradually became sick of humans
humans walking on the sidewalks
humans shopping around out of line
humans lying on tv news
humans speaking out of podcasts
humans speaking up at overated videos
humans acting out in series
humans preaching in lives
app-humans
like ghosts
I did mull
over and over again
on the
issue of me not being able to live
without illusions that allow foreseeing
further
illusions
which have always yielded in me
the joyful need to move
be that as
it may
in spite the fact that we’ve never met
it's due to
you this piece that I wrote
because I can't temporarily neither speak
nor write
in our native language
I wrote in this one and what I wrote
boils down to the following:
‘my dearest
far-off friend
miss you
really hope you’re alright
hope we can meet eventually
and take a walk alongside
the nonsense garden
p.s.: this is not a farewell'
andrejcaetano
