never going to forgive him who has ten years younger than me. I can forgive him write as he writes, I read more, and that it is pretty interesting and eyes that sparkle when she smiles. Also we have found that after four or five years of cyber relationship. But never with ten years younger than me.
Half of what I am is made of words. Some
his story made me mourn.
always makes me see him back. A decade. A decade fair, which took him. I remember a talk about sex, in theory, one on why not speak of books: one on whether love ... if love is ... what is ... and how ...
The other music and film.
I met him talking about cinema. And for a blog. For that serve these things, sometimes. I like Calvin & Hobbes and out of the films of Antonioni with the clean look. With his eyes awake. Hopper also loves. Like me. And read on trains. I imagined taking a red tea and asked me what is written. There are a thousand answers to that. Because we are misfits, darling, for not blowing ourselves the brains out, for pain that we do not win, because our lives are not enough and we want to find out what we know.
I always lost and never stopped learning .
shared with me their first job.
Some time later he sent me his first book.
better know what Paul is that I like. And it's much braver than me.
(You know, once I was with someone because you reminded me.)
would like a camera for this sort of thing. For thoughts, pains and chills. But as they are not, I write and so I miss less. The only camera I have is a camera of words that only portrays memories.
New York I would have liked.
The words in italics are his. I do not write well.
0 comments:
Post a Comment