Confused

I have lived the last few weeks in a way more interesting world of teenage fiction books... The past has been quite present as well, mixed with dreams... memories I’m not really sure whether they are real or not. Is this very moment real? It just doesn’t seem to fit with the rest. But life’s episodes don’t seem to match anyway.

It is a big hole of confusion... Bus trips in Rio de Janeiro that could be confused with of some place else. But the street signs were still in Portuguese. Chewing gum packs that carry the smell of some place else. Autumn trees that could belong some place else. And the music belongs everywhere.

Although I’m soaking wet from the heat “outside my mind,” I feel I’m really somewhere wearing a heavy jacket, a pink hat, carrying a matching umbrella... The rain isn’t heavy. It doesn’t quite wet my hand when I stretch it out of the umbrella. I never liked gloves... I’m covered in the dark night by warm yellow lights in the garden with a bench. I play with the puddles... Yeah, I’m always alone in these trips. And the wind is blowing stronger now.