My Darling, thank you. I am sitting here in my appartement. In Berlin.
Life is happening around me, i can hear it when i lie in bed, i can
see it from my balcony. Young excited boy and girl tourists from Spain
and America are walking at night on the street, they sound like little
ducklings who lost their mother duck and are scared and excited at the
same time. I’m not that excited any more, but still i am scared at
times. ThankYou, myLove. All you scared and not so scared people out
there. I love you. I moved cities. I don’t hear life outside my
window anymore. At night i hear the wind trying to push my windows in,
at daytime there are mostly old people pushing their worn out bodies
down the sidewalks. You would suspect their memories to be as generic
as their hair cuts are. But they all have their stories, i believe.
There’s an old sailor living down the street who has seen more ports
in his life than i could stick pins at on Google Maps. And tonight,
through a window, i saw three older men playing guitar, banjo and the
fiddle under harsh fluorescent light. All are living a story. I am
sort of dying of loneliness right now. But this too will pass, like
everything else does. I still love you, though. This is the new life.
It’s quiet. The sounds in the streets are silenced in the fine mist
of a grey-clouded summer rain. Beauty can’t persevere in this moist
and colorless air. People´s outsides are more true to basic human
nature, it reflects in their faces - swollen, scarred, weekday grey. I
don’t hear life anymore, i dream of it now. I dream of a hot and
breathing body drawing my touch. I dream of minds being naked, giving
their flesh up to a private theater of sunbursting games of fucking.
Lend me a body and i will make it come. We will look back in awe on
what happend the day before. We will make up stricter rules and
harsher punishments for next day´s game. This love will hurt like ice
cream. I promise.
