ALWAYS TIME FOR ANOTHER STORY

It is said that spring is here. The birds and the bees, the flowers and the couples making out in parks.


But there are still some trees that are naked, that haven't forgotten the winter yet.


I find a dear friend and we decide that we are both alive today and mostly healthy.


I sit and watch and write while others play, all strangers.


Life is hiding, maybe above us, maybe inside.


Nature hides our solitude too. Makes it less lonesome, more quiet and elegant.


Of course, not always.


So we seek for beauty everywhere and sometimes don't know if we have found it or it's a portrayal of our inner spirit, sick with longing and withering away.

Even the beautiful flowers seem to cry. They have been cut and they have lost their magic.


Reality shows some truths, truths that we already know, such as love is a disease, you can't escape it and you don't want to get over it and it appears again and again.


I walk home alone at night. Witht the blurry nights you can't know if I smile or cry or if I think and what I think about. What do I think about? The present, the past, the future. I think that I am still very much in love with my ex-boyfriend (don't be confused) and something should be done about that. I think I feel rather small and incompetent. Never reaching adulthood... or wanting to. Peter Pan was great and I am one of his many many daughters. So let us fly fly fly!