By MARINE JABBOUR
On hearts
Inside our hearts, there are bridges, and they come in different colors. Some bridges connect us to the outside world and others link us to our souls
One day, I was with a stranger walking on a red bridge woven of my veins. When I slipped, I thought that the bridge shattered… I did not know that when strangers cross into another area, red bridges break leaving us on the valley floor
The bridges that connect us to the outside world are feeble connections, they may break in one second and outlive in another…
The black bridge
Inner black bridges are more difficult to reach, and they rarely tolerate strangers; The road is narrow and can barely accommodate one
Those crossings are not linked to time. There is no era, there’s no hour of arrival. The journey there does not end
You can choose to walk as much as you want on red bridges, and that’s what we all do, but when you stumble do not look for the reason
Strangers can cut your veins at any time, most strangers are friends and lovers, definitely not surgeons, WHO gave them the Scissors?
I love how you’re able to say so much with so few words. I interpret this as getting attached to the idea of someone, instead of actually learning who they are, which allows you to get close with them and you might end up giving them more control over your emotions and thoughts than you really should. Really good work!
Thanks, Alexander! I appreciate you taking the time to express that, and I am happy to hear you feel that way : ) Waiting to read your next article! Best, Marine
Thanks, Alexander!, I appreciate you taking the time to express that, and I am happy to hear you feel that way : ) Waiting to read your next article!