Tisdag og sitater:
I feel like piece of my neck is missing, partly og holy, more the less, it is still not there.
I dream of vampires. I dream of god. I dream of no vampires. I dream of no god. I dream of nothing. And yet that too is my dream.
Make no mistake, those who write long books have nothing to say. Of course those who write short books have even less to say.
Tusen år, føles det som. "I hope the rain is helping you sleep." Jeg mangler ord og fyller min munn med andres. Slik er det, av og til.
My dearest. I have been reading again. Reading perhaps what I should not have read at all. But now it is all to late a tale to spin. Not that anyone would read that kind of tale. I am at a loss, both for words and beauty. I thank the Maker that we are interpreting such settings on a different scale. Simply put - I am glad we are not reading the same signals together, not to understand correctly or twins from two wombs. In all simplicity, all the glory, all the ink and red tape - we are a bit lost some times.
My white spots are back, and not in a good way.
Og fordi det var for vakkert til å la være, gir jeg deg dette.
You Shall Be My Roots
You shall be my roots and
I will be your shade,
though the sun burns my leaves.
You shall quench my thirst and
I will feed you fruit,
though time takes my seed.
And then I'm lost and can tell nothin of this earth
you will give me hope.
And my voice you will always hear.
And my hand you will always have.
For I will shelter you.
And I will comfort you.
And even when we are nothing left,
not even in death,
I will remember you.