walking down memorylane

Dutiful Wednesday. Loads to do, will not do any. Long for the summer or spring, well at least for a warm breeze that gently strokes my cheek. I miss the colorful blindness you get from staring in to the sun too long. I miss the freckles on my knees. I miss sable under my feet. So I run, far far away. Days like these are made for wine, cigarettes and endless daydreaming. I sit in the window sill and I remember..


We ran through the grass. The dewdrops licked my ankles wet. We were hundreds, well at least a dozen. Sky painted softly in apricot. Afternoon had turned into evening, night and now morning. We were out on an adventure in the woods. Surrounded by green. We made fires, danced around them singing softly, shouting loudly. We built a community, for just one night. 


I met him for the first time out there. I loved his curls and I adored his voice. He sang to me that night and he spoke french like a native. We shared wine bottles, cigarettes and breaths. We made love under the stars, like one of those virgin cliches. Still it was no cliche. He swept me away, heart body and mind all at once. And I found myself lying on my back out on a field. The others just a few feet away. He tucked his shirt under my head and touched my collar bone with his fingertips while whispering the world was made for us and no one but us