Event

Inside is outside, outside inside. There is no dividing wall between our worlds. Everywhere you are with me. Everywhere I am with you. In my room, in your room: when at the soft dance of the red fish in the bowl you stared, I stared; when you hear the voice of the fish, I hear; when you see the mouth of a coloured bubble, I see: blossomed on the water lip to the lip of the bowl. When you read the text of the fish, I read: written with tiny little foams in a circular line on the crystal wall of the bowl; I am with you. I am with you in your room where the Farvardin sunlight comes from corner to corner and dances on the meadow of your whole carpet. Behind the veil of steam the mirror of your bathroom remembers us. Behind the veil of curtain the windowpanes of your bedroom, on the floor the paisleys of your carpet, remember us. The mirror and the panes and the threads of everything every soft particle of steam have engraved your image — warm in my arms — in their pure memory. Your image and mine breathless, enchanted by you, in your arms. The bricks the dishes and the salt shakers on the table the white and ardent grains of salt remember us; and time keeps us steadfast in its memory. We remain steadfast in each other's gaze in the openings of each other's eyes in the depths of each other's heart. Steadfast, recorded in everything, we remain. We were recorded in everything in every teardrop in every drop of blood in every fold of the sheet and in the depths of each other. In the world that seems to be outside in the world that seems hidden in the depth within. In the world that in truth is only one borderless world, without the border of inside and outside in the eternal event of love...