I have an impulse to write all over the orange walls- I need an alphabet of endings ripped out of books, of hands pulled off of clocks, of cold stones, of shoes filled with nothing but wind.
He doesn’t have to say it, i feel it too; it’s not subtle - like every bell for miles and miles is ringing at once, loud and clanging, hungry ones and tiny, happy, chiming ones, all of them sounding off in this moment. I put my hands around his neck, pull him to me, and then he’s kissing me hard and so deep, and i am flying, sailing, soaring…
I never enjoy anything. I’m always waiting for whatever’s next. I think everyone’s like that..living life in fast-forward. Never stopping to enjoy the moment. Too busy trying to rush through everything so we can get on with what we’re really supposed to be doing with our lives. I get these flashes of clarity, brilliant clarity, where for a second I stop and I think “Wait, this is it. This is my life. I better slow down and enjoy it because one day we’re all gonna end up in the ground and that’ll be it. We’ll be gone.
you still want to travel to
you could not take a camera with you.