words as photographs

absentmindedly and a little tired we talk our day to days. we feel it nipping at the magic of the moment a little. your finger slides the side of your neck, my shoulders tense, the curve of your smile grows, I can almost taste you again, that memory flaring bright, the room rumbles, the light pulses. freeze it. freeze this now. time and distance. second by second to step by step, we cross the distance with muted desire.

the sky is of a muted grey. maybe it's just hard to hear the clouds passing by as you explain how to say ruměnec, erröten, rougir, blush

The wind rustles your hair, the bite of cold sharp on your cheeks, biting. The sun describes a languid arc through the sky and you wonder about the northern lights, remember a closeness. You feel the bite of the wind sharper still, as a smile draws in your face.

  This is unbelievable. I've been up since 4. Slept 90 minutes. I've caught a plane and came to Lisbon. I've spent the day working in an amazing office overseeing the river and the concert arena where I'm coming to see Tool in Summer. The next two days are brimming with wondrous colours and possibility. In a few hours I'll be flying off to Prague to see Anna. The journey here has not been without a little pain. But god damn if this doesn't give me vertigo. This is probably the happiest post on this blog, ever. I can always be proven wrong, though. What a rush! High highs, low lows. It's just a ride.