人生复本

The first time I see you is at the garden party. And when your eyes meet mine, it feels like some piece of machinery has just seized inside of my chest, like worlds colliding.

I’ve always known, on a purely intellectual level, that human separateness is an illusion. We’re all made of the same thing: Blown-out pieces of matter formed in the fires of dead stars. I’ve just never felt that knowledge in my bones until this moment here with you.

I only remember pieces of what was said, how you laughed, how the wine stained your lips. and then you say to me, “I have a friend whose gallery opening is tonight. Do you wanna come?”And I thought, “I’d go anywhere with you.”

I used to think that Life was about reaching some perfect destination. Because I hadn’t reached it yet, I felt somehow ill at ease. But I had seen the perfection. I had reached and I starting to suspect that it is the imperfections of life that amount to a different kind of perfection.

I just wanna be home back on the journey with the version of you.