I would enjoy a Christmas like this, counting all the times I changed direction cause i met people on the street and they made me go somewhere else; all the people I haven't seen in a long time; all the times I thought I'm not going to see someone today just to meet them half a minute later.
And then back home.
Edgar is not at all mad at me, and he tells me a wonderful story about an assassination of a friend of his; then we decide to take our relationship a step further - he stays in my bed and i (quite literally) fall asleep on him. And he, as lovely as he is - stays still and quiet, and keeps me safe from bad dreams. What we have here, this must be real, he even wrote me a poem long time ago, and I love every word from it, every word he had ever written.
This is me now, this has been me the whole day: smiling at words and stupid questions, deciding not to take a side in pointless arguments, drinking water and writing down ideas and plans for the weeks to come. You've come a long way, baby, and you're a long way from home.
(Also, BRMC tomorrow, and this is how we end this year's gig list.)
No comments:
Post a Comment