I watch you in the mirror of souls when my sight is over the reflection of my very own eyes. Despite in the outside we are as alike as drop of rain and a thirsty tongue; or a pink bow and a padlock beard, in the inside we are not different at all (We are but I like oxymorons).
Maybe the Romans spoken the truth in that myth of gods splitting people to weaken them and we are nothing more than one soul in two different (pretty different) pots... or maybe not.
I have just bought a ticket for this trip... I know that destination is unknown and duration uncertain. But, for the very first time I do not care about it because I feel complete now and here, in this eternal minute. So... who cares?