Anne's thoughts

the window is cold

the room warm

my finger tips brushed against the window

slowly and mindful

1440 by olafur arnalds was playing

and no one was awake

the flame of my candle dancing swiftly

it was then

when i could think uninterrupted

i had the time

my toes were cold as i tiptoed

she lay suspended in the moonshine. eyes open and legs outstretched. sand in her hair and her heart extinguished like a flame. a tear that meant the world rolled down her cheek as she thought. she thought of the memories with people she wanted to spend every ounce of her being with, yet they vanished as fast as they had once appeared. slowly standing up, unsure of her steps, she walked into that very ocean. her eyes clear yet inconsolable. she continued to walk until she could no more.

listen to my playlist

my eyes dizzy with nicotine,

lost like a bird, full with despair,

hungry, hungry for more.

What is more?

More than the “privilege” we have?

Or more than the “love” we receive?

I feel as lost as that bird, flying with everyone around me,

maintained, controlled.

Amo mucho, amo demasiado,

amo despacio y con pasion,

sin control, como las abejas en la miel.

Amo dulce, amo sin cuidado,

ni preocupacion.

Con todos mis sentimitientos

como en un juego de poker,

descuidados. Igual al amor,

She took a step closer, like one turns to the next page.

Slowly. Delicately. Focused.

Her finger tips in her hair as one would caress the side of a page.

Elegant. Careful. Mindful.

a room full of pictures, in different colors, full of books, in different languages, full of pillows, who have touched tears for a different reasons, a room that has lived, how empty. The walls empty, lifeless, hurt, the music gone. Walking in and hearing an echo as you speak.

The most beautiful art is

looking into someone's eyes

when they talk about

things they love

What people don’t understand is that I don’t make playlists because the songs i’m playing are my favourite. I make playlists because they remind me of people, of moments, of feelings. Things i can’t express other than by playing those songs in that particular order, and remembering how i felt that moment in my life. Everyone has their own way of being and I like to see in people what others can’t. The way they move their hands, the way they move their lips as they talk before they take a breath. That is why my playlists don’t have quotes, but names and dates.

Maybe I can make him smile without control one day, make him blush bright red, make him sigh when he sees me, make him laugh without control, spend moments where all there is, is us and the stars above our heads. Just a moment where you stop breathing because you want that moment to last longer, as long as possible because you know that anything else than exactly that would just not be enough.

a place they call the city of lights, yet to me its the city of smells. every street you walk by, every person you walk by, a hint of their fragrance stays behind.

i met you the wrong place the wrong time. at a party where i didnt know how to go up to you. and only when i was drunk, sat on the sofa and leaned my head into the first persons shoulder did i notice it was you. i see you all the time now, but i guess we are both too shy. theres so much i want  to tell you but i forget the moment i see your smile.

i guess it was the wrong place the wrong time but you still feel right.