birds

I got to the doctor the other day

Oh, he told me that my heart beat was strangely in a perfect equilibrium - still not harmful.

My veins were fine, the blood-pressure was just the expected; still, yet weirdly he felt as if something was not right - and i did what you would expect, i ignored him.

Do not worry, it is just that i could not look at his eyes anymore: how could someone have eyes with such vivid colors?

Perhaps it was envy?

The sidewalk texture, the absence of tone, the lack of sunlight, everything so well-put together, truly a beautiful canvas - not being more perfect than the emptiness, or the lack of one.

There was a puddle of water on the street, birds could be seen reflecting on it

Oh, to me, so fun how such a little thing could show emotion - a soul, though knowing its purpose, performing it just as the expected

Not mentioning it to anyone, still doing what it has been doing since the very beginning, since its existence - being praised or not, having others approval or not, truly an inspiration

Still, as i approached it, nothing but a confusing painting could be seen - perhaps myself would be a Modigliani canvas, as if he painted himself, but still no eyes?