Wabi-Sabi

if we were a little closer to each other you would say we were born in japan and the japanese inspired their philosophy from us, you, flawed beauty, impermanent and incomplete, me, modesty, asymmetrical intimacy that doesn't last but doesn't end either, it doesn't break like a branch but it doesn't become perfection, an intimacy that excels infinitely, increasing solitude but never alone like autumn leaves, colored by the sun but which fall slowly to the ground, old age bitter melancholy refined by small luminous cracks hidden in the wood if we touched each other we would be part of japan's treasure, a plate which instead of hot soup is waiting to crack like a cheek touched by swords waiting to be wiped with a rough towel to feel the softness of his kintsukuroi wrinkles, to feel its beauty from the cloudy moon which still makes us taste what is unseen