A cure for nothing less than fantasy

Lovesick on Christmas eve?… Hmmm
They sell these fantastic little tin boxes with lip balm here, tasting like Coca Cola, Fanta or Sprite.
Mine are still swollen from the weekend, for the rest I look out the window on the second floor. A wind as gentle as ever, with a smell of smoke.
The cats are busy playing with their butterflies – butterflies in winter, who would have ever thought this possible – while their teeth punch through these membrane-like wings, Roxette plays ‘The Look’.
Game over when nothing’s moving anymore.

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