My years of self-destruction has gone far away, he took of my hand my greatest key to hell , to the burning land. Now in my journey, me alone, hearing my own thoughts , I also decided to make up things with the sun, is just about vitamins, nothing more than that. I forgot how to ride a bicycle I have to walk or maybe take the bus, now that the sun has come again I can see things in a different way .
I love how the sun looks these days pretending to be warm but is just a fragile image of what summer used to be .
I like the colors of 10 am bright, not that warm, maybe too cold , maybe too real. And once again walking around here and taking the train heading south this time, people starts to have more shape, they are becoming more real , like they where alive , maybe they die at summer and when the fall starts the come alive, I blame the flowers, they are too colorful and they don't want to share attention with anyone else. Single women talking loud about how free they feel, but that uncomfortable movement of their hands maybe are trying to say something else. And then I remember my favorite stranger , away from me , missing him so bad that I'm not even shy when I bring him up.
For me coming to the city is exiting (still), always trying to remember why I am here, showing to myself that I belong here, that they are a lot of people like me thinking the same silly idea , people who are from nowhere, people that doesn't have to say anything because there is something that already shows a lot.
I love when I find people like this, and they talk to each other scared of being in silence, when they stand in front of me and they avoid any contact with the fear of knowing someone new. I like those who reads in the middle of chaos and those who doesn't have any choice but to watch and listen, like me.