An Island...

I have been engrossed in reading words from a person well known to me.

She also resides on an Island, but obviously smaller.

The island isn’t cloudy and linguistically diverse like mine. But it is like a volcano with a burning fire and spurting hot water into the blue sky.

Through her words I look at her life, on a day to day basis in the country where she still has to wait till the sun finally comes.

Can I walk into her world by crossing the bridge built from her words? Surely this is inappropriate! Or maybe I am wrong?

By reading – I imagine.

 Imagination builds a new world. A new world - a new place to live.

Recently like a new star somewhere in our Cosmos I was born again in a different place.

Merely because of her written sentences.

I’m a traveller – lovely feeling.

no name

Came back home this afternoon tired like never before. Even a fucked up hare’s guts by a hungry wolves pack, look a hundred times nicer than my face, obviously. Had a warm shower to wake my body up, but even warm drops worked against my alien nature.  Not to mention I almost mixed up the toothpaste with the Armani shower gel made in the Greatest Kingdom of Uzbekistan!I smell so good – check me out!

I managed to get to my bed without breaking my old bones and yes I’m lying down with the ugly smile on my face. Somewhere from the background I can hear a French music. Hypothetically it is a French music, my brain can’t understand the words from the strange written text in a foreign language. Well every language seems to be so foreign to me now. 

Can’t even finish the column. No petrol in the tank. My mind that it used to be like a new Mercedes, has turned into a Nissan Micra without MOT! 

Goodnight all