Drunk in the living room after a weird night out as all the others. I used to like going out with you. Drink and stare at you… all night long… I didn't understand anything then either… But I guess you did (for both of us), and that is all that mattered.
What matters now is that I have to re start… on a jet plane once again… I am hoping this is the last time. But I have said that too many times before… wearing a long purple dress or a pink nightgown, I imagine myself being found somewhere, alone In Edinburgh or Amsterdam, or anywhere cold where my make up doesn't melt, please.
Good night, get back on your horse and come back tomorrow for brunch. I will make pancakes. Don't look back. There will be light tomorrow, I promise. The Lake will be blue again, the sky blue and yellowish. Darkness will have vanished, until it comes again. We can dance through it: on the tube back and forth until my cheeks burn in red.
Good night now.
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Life is a transition until your spot in the world has been found... Some stay where they were born... they never leave... they never wonder whether home is "there" indeed... Others, however, have to look for their place...
