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?
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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.
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