A single eye is enough, so is the single wing of a butterfly to thrill the skin.

Opening, closing and undressing as if thousands and thousands of maple leaves are falling along avenues and as if around the corner I am going to see someone(you?) turning and vanishing and as if that glimpse would tunnel through my irises and lodge in my vision like a diamond.

After that everything would be split into seven. Light, notes of music, thoughts, hours awaiting your next sight like waters are being split by the fins of so many thousands of shoals of tropical fish that I wouldn't know where and what to look for.

Then perhaps you will become visible, the quintessence of black eyes that signal and await at windows for someone to arrive, a glimse of the unknown beyond seeing. Then I would know, how I have arrived to this point of unision: of your colors, of your words and of your eyes

that I can only but imagine just behind all these flashing transient screens.