two hundred-sixteen.

only if we feel like it.

nope, it's not the kind of music you play
on a bright and sunny day that inspire the birds
to fly up against the wind as if it were their everyday lover.

or the kind of shoes you wear on the nights when no
one is home calling you to come and dance with them to the
sound of the moon being tightly held by the sky.

or the kind of letter you'd read from the bottle in the sea
when it washed up on the shore, unexpectedly and you replied
as if you knew it were for you ... as if you knew they would receive it.

in truth, it could be this way ... without questioning or hesitating.
only if we feel like believing it to be true.
let's move.