Swing

        SubZERO. All questions erased. At times forgotten, censored, under snowflakes or stones I used to step on. Future on hold, such far objectives and present objections. On the radio ('I hear November rain' :) ), 'Hope I choose a better tomorrow, than a better yesterday', it's not my demand, not my doorstep, anymore. Anyway, it's better to fall, because you eventually stand up... If you choose to stay, you'll eventually crash and never let go of anything. We always needed a neverending intermezzo, not a passage; found destruction and forgot banalities. 

      No finish, no regrets, they never work.

Das Leben Der Anderen

Bleibet Hier

      All is in perpetual disorder, blue touches blue, touches black then expands, I ask for nothing more.

     'Still my heart this moment or it might burn'. 

Hanging Around

         Inbetween two places, one step outside the house, and one step already out of the door... Still miles away, still restless, this is summer, this is how I always get. 'I look down at my feet, they've been with me for years...' And the song gets louder and louder in my head: 'So far away, so far away, so far away...' And I AM at my best when I'm far away.  What else is there? Someone, maybe. Truly? Passingly for me, I steal one smile, the truce is one glance in the shadow, under rainy roofs. I'm bad at goodbyes, but you surprised me, and I'm not gonna tell you, maybe in the winter, when there's frost, snow, mistletoe and 'Behute mich Gott'.

Hooverphonic - Vinegar and Salt

Hooverphonic - Vinegar and Salt
Asculta mai multe audio Muzica

Walde Huth: One Hundred Unwritten Letters

                I have one unwritten letter. I received one, two, three answers to it by this time. This way, it's much harder to bring myself to actually writing the 'ghost'-letter, even though eventually, if a refuse to do it, I won't be myself and stop being myself from that moment on. Selfish, irrational, dreamer, stupid. 

                I'll end up buying a postcard at one point, of course. Not going to send it, no. Just keep it in my drawer for a while, yes. 

                I'm polishing My Unwritten Letter, I can see the title, no content, no contempt (yet). Dread all mistakes. 

                I'm not lost, just wondering/wandering. 

Dialectique

                    'Cause two right steps often lead to a completely wrong turn...

                    C'mon... We're the same, just as yesterday. Listen to the poet, hear the rhythm in disarray, creep under your wooden stairs. We're the same, just you and me. 

                    Allegro, allegro.