Arbit IV

All you need for happiness, sometimes, is a different kind of love. The mute kind, that doesn't show itself, doesn't speak, but ripples just below the surface. Like when they met so many weeks and months after a painful separation, and it was like the good old days. The love was there all right, a silent undercurrent bridging the gap, reminding them why they'd fallen in love in the first place. The love didn't utter a word, but he was happier than he'd been in ages, and she laughed for real after a long, long time.

Arbit III

I don't want more. Well, maybe a little more, but not a lot more. But I definitely don't want less. And, for me, the long term is more important than the short term. So, to not have less in the long term, I can afford to lose a little in the short term. But where does the short term end, and the long term begin? When do I stop losing and start gaining? What if life's like a rainbow, a real rainbow, where you know the extremes are different, but there are no lines, no boundaries, no watersheds? Maybe you can see and tell if a point is distinguishable from another ten years later, but can't tell it from the ones next to it. Can you tell where to stop and where to begin? Where you can start getting at least as much as you used to before you started having a little less? Can you draw the lines?

And what if life is like the rainbow we know, the perceived rainbow of seven colours, where you can tell red from orange, indigo from violet? That tells you what stage to end, and which to begin. Maybe what you really want by the time you get, say, from blue to green, is a gain in X and Y. But when you get there, you realize you've lost so much of X that you can never have it all back. And Y just keeps growing purposelessly till you reach red.

Arbit II

He seemed to be hearing things meant for someone else. But no, they were meant for him all right. She repeated, she wept. But he wasn't speechless. He spoke, made her laugh. He spoke of love and unwavering faith. He hung up. He stared at the ceiling, then slept.

He tried. He travelled and pleaded and argued and reasoned. Then gave up.

He travelled some more, argued some more. He gave up again.

Every time he tried, he failed.

I think he still loves her. But he says he has no time for her now.

Arbit

God created Man
And they were quite all right for a while;
Then Man created gods
And they lived happily never after.