17/05/26

I have wanted to be wrapped tightly in perpetual softness. Although, I do need to see the real people moving through the real streets through the real weather, as you know. Aware of this, I am able to consciously consider the luck that I’ve had and my ability to see the value in terrible sights. And terrible memories. Amazed by the memories. Alive, then no longer. The images of cold and fear and night, they live on the backs of my eyes. But I am trying to be tired in a beautiful way and I can promise you that. Always waiting to be actualised by the synthesis of curiosity and acceptance. It’s difficult when I recall that I can only ever be one person. Any other wish is the wish of a child. Absurd fixations on the tiniest pieces of dust. Absurd dreams in the warm restlessness. Absurd hope that I could be l-o-v-e-d.