The way in is the way out. The way out is the way in. Tidy was the room they called house. Comfortably she sat on the bed, uncomfortably I sit on the chair by the door.
What is the meaning? What is the sense? How is the future? She looked away and answered "I do not know."
Tarry on my eyes, two seconds couldn't be found. Seventh of November... Her day.
Pharaoh's grand daughter came out to meet Moses in a low tone, she said, "I love you, but do you love me?" Charming she was, the moment a plea for eternity.
"I have my sister and mother to wipe my tears, do you love me?" She had such beautiful eyes, but the divine beauty Moses saw, was not on her, with her, but in her. He answered nothing.
"Slow down, speed is an illusion."
"There is no time for you, my father would soon fall upon the people of Israel, your people." She said. Such pragmatism, the nature of God bottled up in a woman.
'She has everything, her life is on course, why does she want to settle for me?' Moses thought. But he said, "Sister! sister!"
Will the road to the promised land be without her? What if the Zeitgeist would show a different side?
The moment, always the moment, always the meaning. For me, always life.
To look life in the face, always to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. At last to know it, to love it for what it is and then to put it away.
Life always happens.
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