vi var alla unga, mer eller mindre begåvade och vi var vackra



All the loves you have, however brief or intense or real or fake, will teach you something or bring you something with them.
I would never have moved to Iceland if it wasn't for a love lost. Nor to Prague, I would never have started watching the kinds of films I most love now if it wasn't for desire.
I bet a lot of the books I have been recomended to read were once recomended by someone else who in turn was also recomended to read them by a love of their own.
my last real love tought me to not apologize for everything and to try new things. I still feel the need to undo things, to make myself undrunk by the means of apologies, but I stop myself too in at least 90 % of the cases.

I am trying to write an essay. essays that you have to write is the one thing I have the hardest time to do in the world. Especially now when the sun is shining and everyone is drinking beer in the park. I keep wandering the internet, refreshing the page. waiting for? inspiration? the thing is that forced essays will never bring me any inspiration, only dread. I fall asleep while trying to read the theoretical litterature. I have been biting this pen for two hours now. eating 5 bowls of soup.
maybe after one more bowl I will be able to shit out some well formulated words on a subject i don't care for. just maybe.
or maybe I will take life by the hand and head out the door and join the rest of london in the sunshine.
life is for living right?

1 comment:

  1. That's exactly how it is! So many travels where the first thing to be put in the suitcase was a broken heart. And some kind of love seems impossible to forget, it got deep under your skin and changed you forever.