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The Day Before Yesterday, The Day After Tomorrow
The day before yesterday I learned a new word. "Zeit" always sounded mystical to me, regardless what language is used. And what is time anyway?
Yesterday I met Badia, daughter of my grand father's half sister. Badia, dressed in black, carrying weights of time, pain, and her own body with her, had kissed me on the cheeks and called me "my love" before she got to know my name. Such a woman cannot lie, but am I really her, whatever? Is this where I came from?
Now I am on the edifice of another future, but how could the past be gone and still is all I am?
The plane seat I am in will take me to a man I have never seen before, yet he is a man who influenced me more than any other. Tomorrow: Could I be relating to Roger Waters the same way Badia relates to me? Is he really my prophet? Is this where I am going to?
The day after tomorrow belongs to dreams. A dream that passed shapes my past. A dream forward sketches my desires. In my mind, all this is time passing. Me? I am just my current mood.