Jet contrails, Marcus. You see the sky was never meant to be scarred by them. And yet, we think of them now as normal or even beautiful. Surreal vapour calligraphy. It’s the same thing with relationships. No one remembers what the unblemished perfection was supposed to be like.

The primal mandate was the infinite progression of life. The complexity of the new paradigm comes from the inevitable synthetic permutations introduced into the human interface.

Introduced because we need validation of our existential dilemma, endorsement of our sense of happiness. So we barter need for want, purpose for possession, poetry for fine print, sunsets for illusion, love for security and eternity for exhilaration. How will the perfect relationship survive that trade?

By becoming normal. Even beautiful.

neither sun nor moon
neither light nor dark
the unopened bud holds her secrets