Snow where the heart is
But where is my mind?

It passed quicker than I could blink an eye, the sight of you walking down a street as the bus drove past.
I see that distant, grey speck of you as clearly today as I did then. The same feeling creeps up -- I change the
subject, not knowing what else there is to say.

So, how is the weather?

It does not matter.

Sometimes it looks like something of a bizarre cross between a pity party and a roman orgy.

Four o'clock; It is a case of 'too much or not enough' these days.
Earthquakes make for good punctuation.

Good day, reader.
And if my writing has not put you to sleep yet, good night.

For the record, I only come out at night.
And no, Alexander, not in that way.
Sorry to disappoint.

Three o'clock in the morning. Lips crack, things don't add up ( Read more... )

In other news:


( Read more... )

There is an empty book of matches on the balcony, and I'm watching the cars pass by. Blowing out steam makes for a poor way to entertain myself, though the ( Read more... )

Good things come to those who wait, yes?