The next love story - Part 3

Fallen into the very common trap of living, the days started to stack one after the other. A long line of repeated dawns and sunsets. A cycle of biorhythmic repetition. They balanced on the phone line, with the dangerous uncertainty of a fearful funambulist.

Looking at the different sides of the half glass, he embraced the sensual grip of the tangible, while she succumbed to nerves and denial. Both relishing the sweet, welcome pain of hundreds returns.

And wrapped inside a geometric series of infinite boxes, a trick, an illusion, a divertissement. Desire.