Feelings. Feelings that come and go. Like the wind they may come soft or strong and though we don't see them, we do notice them.
He told me he was four. His name was Paul, which was quite strange considering he was spanish. He was a charmig little man; a chatterbox he was. He said I was his friend; after two minutes, his innocent, small, stary-eyed face said I was his friend.
If only it were always that simple.
