Here, now.

You will always be that summer. You will always be that roundabout. You will always be in my chequered, pinkish shirt (when you wear yours I hope you think of me). When my hair sways a certain way, you will be there and when I wear that green skirt your eyes will be in it. You will always be bars, food fuss, fast words, dramatic frills and early sunrises in the heart of the city. Some streets will continue to be yours and a certain light will always make me think of you. The stories will continue to be passed on. The laughter will continue to echo. I will still think of you on most Sunday mornings. Your terrible dress sense. Your stammer. Your hands. Your hands. Your hands. And, your thoughts. With (always) more than one translation. In a way I think I did love you. In a way (even though we put each other through hell) a part of my heart will always be yours. But, we did have an ending. A proud one. A clean one. One that did us justice. I can´t really ask for more.

Jesper Norda – Tomorrow You'll Be Forgiven But Tonight You Will Have Your Teeth Knocked Out