From a Shore to the Inland, up to the Desert and back to the Black Forest, I’m looking for the Desert Island where I could play with Kaïros. Note to MySelf: Ah.
Where am I? How long have I been there?
All I can name around me are colours. Sure, there are what you can call trees there. But they aren’t.
At the precise moment I’m writing this, there’s nothing I want less than to make you uncomfortable with me. I know « pity » is a word that is never clearly pronounced when I let people perceive me, or rather when I can’t prevent them from seeing me.