chelsea hotel

I’m wasting my own words. I used to be minimalistic. I am not sure what happened.

all of a sudden, nothing is enough. I have this constant need to explain and to expand my thoughts to the extent where it becomes irrelevant.

no one is interested, not even myself.

I only want to read and write and educate myself.

and sometimes, once in a while, meet someone who will turn my world upside down.

except one day I will want that person to stay. stay and not leave.

I returned to my endless piece that I started writing a few weeks ago.

I thought I would finish and then delete it, but right now, it seems as if it will never end. I am not sure what I got myself into. all I know that I am finally enjoying myself. in a way that allows me to relax.

I’m sitting here, drinking red white wine, listening to music. but I can still hear the silence.

I can always hear the silence. even with my window open throughout the night.

my shoulders are cold in the morning and I always think of your bedsheets.

March 9, 2011