The philosopher

Blue-eyed boy meets a brown-eyed girl
Oh oh oh, the sweetest thing

Maybe people who says that the philosopher's work is looking for a coat in an egg is right.

He calls me "my brown-eyed girl" right now and it makes me smile.

I have been feeling strange things these days, but he says I don't have reason to it. And he is right. But it is not a girl. It is his dog, the train, his pillow. It is the air and the sun.

Again I though that one trusts another in the same way that one can be trusted.

I'm afraid that it may pain again. He sees the world in a different view, and I realized that it is easier.

"Why?" the brown-eyed girls asks always.
"Why not?" the blue-eyed boy answers.