Thoughts, like shadows, stretch and distort, refracting in the fog of uncertainty. Every word, every gesture of his are tiny fragments of a mosaic that do not fit together into a complete picture. You look for signs where there are none, snatch random phrases out of context, endowing them with unprecedented meaning.

The connection with Leon is an old, creaky swing, swinging in the wind due to mutual reproaches and unspoken hopes. It rests on thin, frayed ropes of affection. You meet out of habit, out of impotence to break this vicious circle woven from mutual grievances and ingrained dependence. Each of your conversations is a minefield, where every word can provoke an explosion of old conflicts. You know each other too well, too deeply, to part easily, but this closeness has turned into a suffocating trap.

Kennedy stands at a crossroads, like a cornered animal, hesitant to take a step either to the right or to the left. In his eyes, there is indecision, frozen in a silent question. Each decision seems to him either a fatal step into the abyss or a colorless existence. His heart wavers, unable to determine the weight of his feelings. Leon is stuck in the twilight of indecision, the specter of an inevitable choice brings him the cold of fear and loneliness.

Yellow taxis, like poisonous beetles, with a shrill screech of brakes pierce the humming stream of cars. The air trembles from the rhythmic clatter of millions of feet on the asphalt. The smell of coffee mixes with the aromas of exhaust fumes and fresh pastries from nearby bakeries. It is a symphony of city life, chaotic, but in its own way majestic.

You run to the taxi after another night with him. Disappointment. You want to hide, run away, leave. "Stay away from the big cities, at least for a couple of days, do you hear?!" Kennedy shouts after you. "Leon, meeting you is the nightmare of my life," you look into his eyes, stopping abruptly. He knows. You want to stay, you want to continue to cherish your love for him, but only if he asks you to do so.