Distance and detachment are they one and the same. Are they related to each other like light and heat or are they immiscible as gravel and water.
I wish to remain ignorant.
For ignorance is comfort, a hazy limbo is always more tolerable than a horrid deformity visible in all its glory.
The marriage of distance and ignorance, a union eliciting the kind of co-habitory bliss that one can only dream of.
So well balanced is their resonance that they are forever floating in the sea of insensitivity.