A new flat. Rearranging stuff. Stocking up the fridge for a nuclear winter. Trying to get a move on in life. At 24, it is indeed alarming.
The next mission is to obtain a guitar and make a few home recordings. There are ideas in my mind. Two days of conversations with you have flooded my head with new shapes - deformed and changing, ready to be poured into a mould, but until then, mating and reposing.
Here is a little something I wrote yesterday, derived from a picture SdS shared with me. I can't put up the picture because of copyright issues.
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Snow-walkers
Je pense à toi
In the snow, many feet deep
there are little snowmen
waiting to be born out of a touch
Waiting for their stick arms and bead eyes
Silently biding time
as we walk all over them with our strong winter boots
mildly discussing the possibility of their existence
Giving them hope
and then, being content with little snowballs
which we throw at each other
Eggs. Snow-eggs!
Look how they smear on your jacket
Look, look! And smile
And after the rampage
A coffee?
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PS1: Picture showed by SdS
PS2: 'It's alright, ma (I'm only bleeding)', Bob Dylan
