“I belong to death and my skin is its borrowed suit. I am not free but I can choose the time, the place and the way …”
The mysterious man jumped off that chair … What a small pathetic chair! I watched him die and I admired his courage. I am in love with the dead man … His first words to me were his last and our first last meeting was the first last date.
He was looking up and now his face is down, he was standing on his feet and now hanged like the hangman game … What a silent game.
The darkness was around him and I have lived in darkness all of my life. I know how it smells and how it tastes. Darkness is the horrible medicine when the light can not heal.
He was surrounded by darkness before he died. In fact, he was the only source of the light in that closed room. His skin was so pure like the moon but unlike its reflective nature he had light of his own.
I am in a dilemma, should I take his body or follow his soul?