ordine, ci vuole.
Oggi è lunedì. Quindi vuol dire che mancano tre giorni.
"Finalmente" mi dico. "OHMYGOD" rabbirvidisco.
"Mi trasferisco a Londra" annuncio.
E giù cazzate da dire, lettere da scrivere, tasse da pagare, conti in banca da aprire. Cose da fare subito cose da rimandare.
Pensieri accelerati e giorni lenti, ancora un paio. Schiarite, tutto si chiarisce alcune cose anche troppo, ché quasi preferivo la nebbia di prima, le tinte fosche, i contorni sbiaditi che sembrano fotocopie lasciate al sole. Sì fotocopie lasciate al sole, provare per credere, anzi crederci e basta.
Lettura: "the undercover economist" e " no one belongs here more than you" poli opposti, corrispondenza esatta dei miei stati d'animo. swinging swinging swinging avanti e indietro da mesi, da millenni.
Scrittura:
"Do you travel a lot?" she asked
"I like travelling" he said
"yeah, but what I really mean is: do you get to travel a lot?" she said.
What she really meant was: please tell me that if we go home together tonight, and then tomorrow again and again the day after tomorrow, and the day after that and many days after yet, we won't get to a day when I will have to run away. Or you will have to run away. Please tell me that one day you'll leave. And that you'll come back. And I won't have to hide to be by myself. Please tell me that you'll let me long for you. Don't always be there for me. Just don't. Let me burn. Let me feel empty when you're far away. Find me again and again. Be my wave. I'll be spring, I'll be your sunday morning.
Don't let me take you for granted.
He looked at her with the look of someone who tries to recall the shape of airplanes, or that he should buy a new suitcase at some point.
"Never mind" she said.
Listening:
the face forgives the mirror
the worm forgives the plough
the question begs the answer
you should forgive me somehow
------------------------
Gotta go. See you in Angel.
"Finalmente" mi dico. "OHMYGOD" rabbirvidisco.
"Mi trasferisco a Londra" annuncio.
E giù cazzate da dire, lettere da scrivere, tasse da pagare, conti in banca da aprire. Cose da fare subito cose da rimandare.
Pensieri accelerati e giorni lenti, ancora un paio. Schiarite, tutto si chiarisce alcune cose anche troppo, ché quasi preferivo la nebbia di prima, le tinte fosche, i contorni sbiaditi che sembrano fotocopie lasciate al sole. Sì fotocopie lasciate al sole, provare per credere, anzi crederci e basta.
Lettura: "the undercover economist" e " no one belongs here more than you" poli opposti, corrispondenza esatta dei miei stati d'animo. swinging swinging swinging avanti e indietro da mesi, da millenni.
Scrittura:
"Do you travel a lot?" she asked
"I like travelling" he said
"yeah, but what I really mean is: do you get to travel a lot?" she said.
What she really meant was: please tell me that if we go home together tonight, and then tomorrow again and again the day after tomorrow, and the day after that and many days after yet, we won't get to a day when I will have to run away. Or you will have to run away. Please tell me that one day you'll leave. And that you'll come back. And I won't have to hide to be by myself. Please tell me that you'll let me long for you. Don't always be there for me. Just don't. Let me burn. Let me feel empty when you're far away. Find me again and again. Be my wave. I'll be spring, I'll be your sunday morning.
Don't let me take you for granted.
He looked at her with the look of someone who tries to recall the shape of airplanes, or that he should buy a new suitcase at some point.
"Never mind" she said.
Listening:
the face forgives the mirror
the worm forgives the plough
the question begs the answer
you should forgive me somehow
------------------------
Gotta go. See you in Angel.
posted by mm at 8:22 AM
1 comments
