i called this boredom and despair while i wait …
one moment i am listening to the rain and a soft melody play behind me, while i sing with a friend. The next moment i am listening to people rumble from topics that do not interest me. After all that, i spent the night quietly near my white pages, sketching, writing and spilling all my thoughts coming from my unused useless trash can which i call my head. Tomorrow is a new day, that i think, and tomorrow i have to work with so many…, altogether, to create something fascinating by placing every individual piece into their rightful place, like a jigsaw puzzle that creates the big picture when it is complete. Descriptions of people, descriptions of their visions of the future, description of the worries of their past, i write, and i write like if there is no end to these words… that i have to say, And you my blog, i keep coming back to you… what are you to me? i ask myself often. I want to tell you that your about someone who i long to see. i write for that person and collect all those sorts of things that i want to say to him when we meet. in pictures and in songs are thoughts of those who are like mine and of yours and we will meet him, that what i keep telling you. If i was ever to see him, i would not know where to begin and politely ask him to read you instead. because you are me, and you only live in my head… and we meet once in a while when we are dead.
