With a lot of fun the weeks pass by – while I am settling in – now even closer to the window and the sea. The round view lets me see the sea, the cliffs and the port.
Attempts of thinking about the fundamentals of creativity somehow fade. I gaze into the purple mist on the train home. More dreaming. Listening to my quiet slow out-of-rhythm heart beats. The air smells like sulfur (like in one of the rare end-of-the-world-dreams last night) and I can certainly picture his smile when I texted him about the jumping fish or the dancing scorpions.
Who wants ghosts when you can have dreams and fog.
Here. And now.