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To piece together the night,
you break rules.
You cross streets at
the wrong places and
pause at the wrong
intersections, to see
the same buildings at
a different angle.
You remember old songs,
those relieved by time
of their burdens and
are now as light
as the occasional
breeze that blows
past midnight.
You rearrange the
prerequisite madness and
walk backwards along
the path you had taken
once, when you
fell in love
with innocence
and tell your heart
that tonight,
just for one night,
it is free,
in the name of the rain
that you will not
shield yourself from,
for once,
and just let fall,
it is free.

There are parts of
the skyline whose edges
fit the silhouettes
of two people standing
face to face,
their souls juxtaposed,
and nature has excesses
that seek nothing but
the untended gaps
of memory,
and if you let
the day’s random
snippets of beauty,
of possibility,
evolve by themselves,
they will come back to you
of their own volition,
whether or not
you take the time
to preserve
the moments that
first brought them.
Like butterflies,
beautiful things that
die fast,
the secret is to not
hold on too tight.
Bliss will recognize them
and gravitate towards
the way they shine.
And the streets under
your feet will be
reborn before you as
you walk,
one city block at a time,
and you suddenly have
everything you ever lost,
whether by force or
by choice,
restored to you
to do with as you please

“Sobre a Ousadia”, photographer unknown