Tell Me Your Story. - Poem by Simple Pleasure
We talk. You tell me a story. You are in your story, but not as 'You'. You are an object in your story: 'I did this, and I went there, and I met you'. When you tell your story it's about you being out there, in the word, and that's not what I'm interested in. You are right here, for me, right now! I see you, I look into your eyes; I look into you and it's that - you - that I am interested in.
I ask you a question: 'How do you feel? '
And with that your story instantly folds, collapses, implodes in on itself and gets tossed out of the world and into your world. You reflect on you, your self-hood, your mind, and most importantly your emotions. So, how do you feel? Yes, I noticed that your story - the one about the word - was saturated with how you feel (in fact it could not be otherwise) . But now, now what you tell me is inherently different, it is self-reflective, and it is true in some pure and fundamental way. Now You are talking to me and I am listening.
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