She has lived a life so utterly full of brave and courageous acts and crossroads taken wildly: but wildly because the world judges so, and a judgement in life is never wisely expounded.
She’s the very most beautiful being in the world: she knows it too, by God, she knows it – as she bloody should. But beautiful because she damn well takes no truck with lies and aggressions and violence of close ones, and those who circle around her: or maybe that’s those who like mosquito to a light attempt to prick closer to her being.
And I realise right now that I have every right to be with her. And I wonder, even now, if she wants to be with me.
And so my right is conditioned by her wants, still unknown. But at the very least I know that from her point of view, although we’ve wasted time … she still wants to know me.