Like their waltz, their lies spirals into hopes, and as all, those hopes only grew to lies. The spiral of time, the ever spinning of day and night serve to remind them of a limited time within this unlimited dance. 

Their footsteps move in sync; right to left, left to right. Front and back, back and front. Their gaze focused only on the soles of their feet, not the eyes of their partner. Bound to split by time, yet bound to a promise made under blue moonlight. Their dance, a waltz illuminated by moonlit nights. 

Three months, three weeks, three days and three nights, fit for a season to pass yet not for them to laugh. Love is but secondary, yet it is not. What should be forsaken and what should be embraced? Dark blue sea or light concrete? 

Their dance is eternal, partners are their own. Hands on hands, feet moving ever farther, to an end not known by them or us.