Monday, April 1


It pains me, sometimes. That I won't be able to listen to that song again nor look at a canola field with the same eyes again.

Sometimes, I wish time would go backwards to this sunny day: Bingo would be alive; we would be lost on windy roads in the middle of nowhere: I would be peeing in a luscious wood and find a buddhist monastery (of all places! in Orthodox Romania!), all to the rhythm of that same song.

And sometimes I wish that time would just go forward already and everything would be settled.

And sometimes I wish that it would just stand still for me to enjoy it thoroughly.

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