I tried to alienate myself from the pragmatism
of the lobbies in the office buildings.
you were emerged in the quest for the definition of unfulfilled teenage dreams.
always in inner peace,
along the river, that always know where to flow.
you were a tourist standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing,
looking at the city skyline as it fades into the gray clouds.
I was the seagull escorting the boat,
wating for someone to throw a piece of pretzel.
limited by the lines on the page,
by the ink in the pen.
on our way to the horizon.