Papa where are you? Are you even listening? Why do you suddenly look so sad? 

Something passes over me like a cloud and I suddenly realize my kid has been animatedly talking to me and I have no clue about what. 

I give her a large grin and lift her and throw her in the air. She laughs loudly and slaps me on my head. 

It never happens again. 

Till it does. After weeks. After months. 

A sudden moment. A stimulus which I long thought was dead. A fleeting look at someone or something. 

And I turn glassy again. 

Lost. Unaware. Unpresent. 

Not unhappy. Not thinking. Just glassy. For a split second. As if a barrage of thoughts wants to break in but my life depends on holding the door in my head with all my will so that they don’t turn me into what I don’t want to be ever again. 

Hodor. Hodor. Bran. Glassy. 

The moment passes. 

I know who is outside the door. It is life. 

But I am living. 

I don’t want more life. I don’t want intensity. Passion. I don’t want analysis. Who gives a fuck as Simon and garfunkel always say – can analysis be worthwhile, is the theatre really dead? 

I am happy. For those split seconds once in few weeks or few months, I am blank. 

But my will holds the door. 

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