Some notes take you back. To a city so full of beauty, (the graceful ice queen of the Nordics); to nights, endless insomniac nights when life was so heavy it hurt to breathe without you. We walked the same streets still and you were everywhere, but I was invisible. And I prepared teacup after teacup of liquid I didn't end up drinking, I fried eggs and tomatoes that turned to ash in my mouth, I stared at the skyline - steeped in blood, thinking that I could never let go of all those words and sentences that shaped us. The notes don't hurt me anymore, darling.
But they are still yours...
Southern Shores – Grande Comore
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