having eyes wide open means not that they necessarily see. it involves nothing except the pull of the bone white moon and, amongst other things, water. through all the small astonishments our imperfections will fall in love. they play with infinity; give each other rings for forever. the broken white shell of the bird's egg; the fragility and the miracle. blood written poems, the sincerity of, touch places dead hands cannot reach. and metaphorical feet that when still keep moving. to arrive, through all the wanderings which were never a rehearsal, almost where you should be.