I never found myself, either in any region, region of reason or region of emotions. Winds, strong as they carry force of passion with and within, flied me long, towards you, away. And, then, weak but ever present current of reason drifted me, away, and yet to you. You, like a puzzle, you, a reader of poem, who knows these words are meant for you.. and, yet, you are silent, you have chosen to keep this painful truth a strange fiction. These words are just memories, these words are imprints of path, that we never walked on, these words are songs, which neither of us listen these days. these words are both of us, which we avoid by mutual consensus. Now, I see you, not as tears, not smiles, not talks that never ended, not spans of silences, no dream, no fiction. I see you, a bare truth, which I denied most of the time.