jeudi 20 mai
Reminds me of you.
Black or blond men. Men wearing black sweaters. Tags on walls. Cats. Easy. Wasps. Rap. Hip-hop. KFC. Rum. Spanish salami. Bad jokes. Feeling stupid. Laughing out loud. Walking alone in the street. Listening to music. Using iTunes. Stencils. Green t-shirt. Jeudis. Blanquette de veau. Letters B&C together. Asterix syndrome. Skate parks. My full flat. Sitting in the couch you would probably choose before I would. Lovers. Time. M.
Oh, how I love you ♫
vendredi 19 mars
Y'a pas d'p.
It's so good to get feelings back. Feelings that were lost and forgotten through these months of mourning and hopelessness. Waking up with the sun, high-speed cappuccino drinking to save bathroom-time, better dreams. Recognize myself in him, change the minor detail in a conclusive clue, the smallest hand stroking in a proof of love, the shorter glance in a first-move attempt. I'd like to tell him "what are you waiting for ?" and "i feel better with you" but my memories forbid it to me. A new start, new words, that's of sound mind. We're nothing for the moment, certainly not rabbits. But We are. Cantwaitformonday.
17.04.2010
samedi 13 février
"Do you love me ?"
As long as you ask me, why not to tell the truth ? I do.
But I'm terribly lost. I want my mind's holidays.
(Mimsy Farmer, Klaus Grünberg in More by Barbet Schroeder)