Masalalu Story

mass conversation

my conversation was jonathan and beautiful in massalalu

jonathan and the beautiful may realize or may not. Happiness in love can just flow. Every object can be beautiful in their imagination. They make up stories of things that don't exist. They imagined themselves as lions and koalas meeting in the wilderness. They imagined a shadow.

They can imagine anything in this world. In fact they imagined an encounter that would only last for three days as an encounter forever.

Do you know how I felt when I lost you? I lost the stories we made.

The drizzle just touched the earth. Tease young couples to find shady places. But drizzling does not really want to disturb their happiness. Shortly after, after the last few drops knocked and soaked the earth that night, the drizzle chose not to come again.

jonathan and the lovely were already sitting back in the available seats along the sidewalk at the zero point of the city. The two of them had just come from the town square watching the night, watching the beauties.

Sometimes they laugh funny seeing some people with their eyes closed walking towards a tree that is believed to have mystical powers. They didn't try. In the heart there was also a feeling of fear if they failed to reach that tree. They do not want to seize happiness through the experiment. They will do their best to achieve their happiness in their own way.

jonathan looked at the beautiful woman continued:

“I miss those crazy words, which just flow. You brought me to a world that didn't really exist. But I like it. Didn't our encounters become intimate in a dialogue never interrupted by stories?”

The man still kept silent while staring at the motion of the lips of the woman in front of him, the motion of the lips that could not bear to not reveal all the longing of his heart on everything that concerns memories. The man guessed: if the story of memories is repeated in the conversation, there is a possibility that he wants to repeat the old stories again.

But the man remained silent.

A man walked in front of them. Sing a song as it passes. But they can hear a piece of the lyrics accompanied by the guitar: too much love will kill you…

There was once a love that was so much and excessive in size perhaps, and it made him firmly attached to forget that love is not something eternal. Oh maybe love can be eternal, but you or she can go.

“You are truly an adventurer in the never-old tales within me. Don't you just write a story but a spell?”

“I wrote the story”, refute Nakula.

“You wrote a spell and I was made unable to leave you”.

“I'm not a shaman. I just wrote the story”.

“I can't believe it. Tell me it's not a story but a spell. Oh don't-don't you wrap a spell like a story?”.

And the woman continued to accuse the man of being a mantra writer instead of a story.

“Now who's crazy? Who can not distinguish spells from ordinary stories?”