18.09.07 13:45 Tues.
Playing Scenic World by Beirut on stolen terms.
It's too late - too damn late to only be awake forty-five minutes ago. Dried strawberries and oat with milk for lunch. The tea is still too hot - not 'the perfect temperature' she told me before - to enjoy it all together. I seem to always miss that ' perfect temperature' - perhaps just once or twice and I thought of her again. It's been awhile.
It was the other world that delayed me today. I had to stay and watch, trying to make things right - or even the way I wanted it to be. Problem is as always is that the harder you try the least it goes the way you please. I was falling and you wouldn't lend a hand. I thought we were good - remember we were going around looking for the secret tunnel, running away from 'em - maybe it was just me. The trembling ride on the elevator and the lost kid. A traveling cousin and the terrible pancakes. A forgiving mother in an ever lasting relationship and that scheming friend who broke his lover's heart just before I left. I thought you'll always be there. But they told me always be prepared to be wrong.
The crowd, the applauds and a very dry lips. The weather is turning cold over the night and the chilly breeze never fails to find its way through the slightly tilted window. A knitted jacket with missing buttons and a red chair that isn't as comfortable as it looks pretty. And the table is getting smaller as I get lazier. I'd asked my evil twin for some ultimate blessings as my palms just got wet thinking about the attachments in less than 2 weeks. I just don't want things to go wrong.
We'll be going to ride the Carousel by the shore at my old place - remember the block with the view of the end of the world and the neighbor with his mesmerizing apartment of a hidden garden. We shall keep our fingers crossed to be out on bright sunny day with rainbows in the sky and we may catch a glimpse of the lovers' steeds roaming the ocean. Otherwise we may be in danger of the wolves that kill in the name pleasure seeking.
Paranoia. The strange sounds through the door and the walls - are keeping me up. Shut the windows and chain the door. And also - a lock for my room to save me from 'em. Then, the phone rang.
And I am lost for words again.