Water

Oh teach me poetry, teach me to cry.
I can tell the impossibility of this utopia, though I'm thirsting for it, and though I want to be a source.
The only thing I'm asking for is an answer, one that does manifest itself in our (mutual) smile.

I  wonder when and in what context I wrote this, it came back in a sketchbook this morning. My wild guess is that I wrote it after reading Derrida's Memoirs of the Blind because it was - especially the ending - an overwhelming experience. One that made me wonder a lot. And thinking about it these few lines give away a lot about what is/was going on, maybe even the exact culminating point, but really I do not care, because it will be obvious only in retrospect anyway. An experience is something that needs to be experienced by oneself, though of course there is never a guarantee that anybody would feel the same as I did. If it happens and you can relate, great, if it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be.