Throwback realities

A certain year. Maybe August. A country.

With cut wings, wearing a denim shirt.

I fall asleep naively.

With bangs.

With dreams.

With fears.

As if I'm running a marathon with no finish line.

In the beginning, I jumped.

Why go slowly?

I've never run so chaotically,

but I like it!

It's like a carousel in thousands of colours,

which I don't even know.


Angus & Julia Stone in the background.

My 2/2m room in the hipsters’ neighbourhood.

I never even heard the word "hipster" until I got there,

like I've never heard the word ‘hummus’.

I put my head on the pillow.

Many fears and many dreams.

"Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane."

I live my days at full intensity. 

I trust new people.

I cling to all kinds of dreams,

while tomorrow is already here.

Tomorrow is fast ahead.

My head is spinning,

is spinning






The evening comes and separates itself 

from everything that was under the day.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I will believe again that all people are good.

I will live every day to the fullest.

I will lead the world.

I will love to the point of refusal.

I will feel that home again.

Five years later. Maybe August. Another country.


Angus & Julia Stone in the background.

My 10/10m room in a wealthy neighbourhood.

The wealthy people all burned out.

I never heard the term "burned out" until I got there,

but look, it's fancy and fashionable.

With wings in the wind,

with the same denim shirt,

with less naivety,

with less fear,

with different dreams, 

and what else?

“Gonna hold you, gonna kiss you in my arms. Gonna hold you...’’


That dream That dream That dream That dream That dream


That dream where I colour my mandala book at sunset.

That dream where the key to my soul is a luxurious, rare one.


That dream where a man believes I'm the best thing that ever happened to him, every today.

That dream where his eyes compete with Christmas lights.


That dream where he is amused when I sometimes talk in my sleep.

That dream where he is a fan of my strange hobbies.


That dream where we listen to my Elvis Presley vinyl. 

That dream where we take thousands of pictures on film 

and develop them in the basement of our house.


That dream where we collect stones and shells from the beach.

That dream where we have plenty of calathea plants in the house.


That dream where he understands that a joint from time to time 

is good for cultural digestion.

That dream of him laughing at my jokes, even if he doesn't fully understand them.

That dream where we go to my mother's house and 

hungrily devour meatball soup.

That dream where he drinks brandy with my father.

That dream where I write poems and recite them to him.

That dream where we randomly leave love notes to each other.


That dream where we dance together on the street.

That dream where we hold hands while cycling.


That dream where he loves all my tears.

That dream where the stillness between us is not strange.


That dream where we are meters away 

and still read "I love you" in each other’s eyes.

Te iubesc! Mahal kita! Ti amo! Jag älskar dig!

I love you! Ik hou van je! Je t’aime! 

Kocham Cię! Eu te amo! (Md) rakastan sua!

Te quiero!

  Aloha wau ia 'oe! t'a gr'a agam dhuit! Ich liebe dich!

That dream where…

he holds me to his chest

and I know that all is good,

that he will not run away,

that we will love each other,

that we will grow old together.

That dream where we are scared,

but we know that in the end

it will be fine.

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