I started writing something bigger. I might call it a book, but I’m not sure. Here’s some raw footage.


There’s a special way the world sounds, when you’re walking up or down the streets. Streets always filled with other people that aren’t quite you, but come close. Their feelings and faces always on display, influencing the way you walk. You speed up and you slow down or you stop.
Tonight I came home, after sitting in empty bars like a stray cat. I went between the city, between the metal bars. It was raining, it was night and I walked slow. It felt empty and every footstep echoed back, an endless dialogue with myself. It’s hard to get lost in this city, but it’s easy to get lost in yourself. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Your mind starts to wander…
… Watching out of the window of my first apartment. I always liked that. The streetlights are like amber and paint the world in a very new light. There’s nothing like it, because we made it. We decided how we wanted the night to look like, and we decided on amber. It was probably raining, it always was. I saw her walking down a street that was new for both of us. We would live on this street for a while. Home street. I was very happy. I turned around and half fell through the tiny, tiny apartment. Somewhere there was the cat that yelped as I apologized for stepping on him. I traced the walls and felt their texture. I wanted to come back here at some point. The mind needs details to hook itself onto memories.

… I walk on. Under amber streetlights. A cat yelps somewhere. Left foot, right foot…

… The country. I often stay in a house far away from everything. The sea is always stormy. Trees either cursing or singing at you. In autumn it would flood and the strip of land, that would connect me with the rest of the world, would melt away. Suddenly, an island. With cursing trees.
I walked to the seaside when the sun started to go down. It was my cue to start walking. You could almost feel the forest changing as winter was coming. Not dying, just falling asleep. Pulling up a blanked filled with the most colored leaves it could make. It was almost dark when I arrived to greet the sea. I immediately turned back to see the forest before it turned. I always liked the treetops. Some imagined walking on clouds, but I liked the top of the forest. You’d always be in-between two worlds, which to me, was much more fascinating.
“I’m very, very alone here” I thought. It was a good thing. Alone to feel. The wind was strong and if I’d let myself fall, it would hold me up a bit before realizing gravity.

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