I like when something calms you and also makes you feel alive. It's nothing about drugs,but about pure things like music or a good film. Like those strange conversations with somebody that suddenly has become special in your life. Lately I despair looking for that calm, for that alive state.
It's getting cold, as though the winter was trying to trick us for no reason. There's never reason to explain the winter, or the relation between my breath and how close you're from me, I guess. Or yet it just means I've been too isolated, so isolated that now I don't know how to response to the changes of temperature. I forgot to take my coat, I lost my baggage somewhere far away from here.
Everything turned out complicated, I got back to my bed. I always get back to my bed, lay down and fade out as the night comes by. Like if sinking in the night was the only way out. But the night is the cold and the fog, is the blur of the streets or the stop of the clocks. After the lie of the lights, the lie of the day, the night comes out with my fear and weaknesses.
Imagine one of those yellow lights of the streetlights twinkling. A big street in a foggy night, symmetrical bluffs on each side of the street. It's such a long street and just one of the bluffs does not work. Now you imagine you're right there, in the middle of the way, naked, the snowflakes falling on your skin. You are staring to nowhere, you are walking upon the edge of nowhere. Then you fall down to the floor and remember that people shouldn't walk naked in the winter night. You mother always said you were clueless. You forgot your baggage somewhere far away from here.