This priceless island is a deserted field of dreams. It holds what used to be triumph of the spirit but is now memory and partiality.

Wax elephants.

Our fathers died when we were very young. We attended Mass together and on the anniversaries of the deaths we both dressed up. You in a yellow dress, me in a gray sweater and slacks. Those things were our wedding attire, our funeral attire, our communion outfits, our school event wardrobes. We both came from poor families and these dress-up costumes lasted us for years and years and I never got tired of seeing you in the yellow dress. Back then I was confused and enamored by you.

During the rainstorm we were stuck underneath an awning near the shoe store, and the concrete embankment flooded, up to our ankles. For a brief moment I had this extraordinary feeling that we would get to stay there longer, get to know each other better. But the rain only lasted for around twenty six minutes, at which point we started walking again, and with all the people on the street, it didn’t feel so suddenly personal anymore, the things we said and shared. I liked it a lot better during the rainstorm.

Poured all of my energy into making the guests feel welcome and desired.

Whatever I don’t want is like running in place forever. Standing around and accepting it is like being a parent.

Of hell caroline, pain prevarce, patience and pity.

Disappearing ink penned into the hotel registry.

(Source: corpseonpumpkin.com)

It creaks and it’s awfully loud, which I dislike in a tremendous way, but this is just the way things are and one can’t do a thing about it. It’s crowded, but you can be alone here and it’s not a bad thing.

Where and when I knew her from, there was the sea at night and the fear of falling over the edge of the bridge into the water in the dark while sleeping.