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replay
June 17, 2005
Sitting here all alone in a foreign place reminds me of the time in Stockholm. (Actually, it reminds me many times I spent all by myself.) The only difference though is that now I am waiting for someone. That someone is late, but I have all the time in the world.
Happiness is accepting it as it is. Is it not?
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une table
pour deux
Make it two
Two perfect ones, as light as clouds
Because they are the only birds that never sleep
Never sleep
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dejavu
of an illusion
You think about it, day and night, until it becomes part of your memory. So when you finally live that day, it's an overlap of the reality and a simple imprint
in your memory. It's a weird feeling, to experience a dejavu of the future.
You try hard. You struggle to recall the day; what you ate, where you were, what you were doing, with whom you were. A little collection of trivial features, unimportant to me. You try harder, because you know you've seen it before, you've sensed it... Then you wake up, only to realize that it hasn't happened yet.
I'm chasing after the rainbow behind the clouds. You go to it when you see it, only to realize that you don't when you're finally there.
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overcast
nonsense, meanwhile
Third day at home, and it's been nothing but home.
It's been Rain, both faint and invisible.
As MH would say, an outstretched hand would be retracted with only a hint of dampness.
Meanwhile.
Life or time.. drifts past, slow as clouds.
While my mind dwells deep in emptiness.
It is currently 10:30am.
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untitled
here we go again
I've recently read this book by Paulo Coelho. In sum, the book is based on a Brazilian prostitute who finds her true love. For those who have read his most popular book, The Alchemist, you will see that this book is also very dreamy and has this annoying effect of making you believe as if your life has just changed. Oh well, I'm sure my reality-liver is healthy and has already started to weed out this false hope.
Life.. as clouds.
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