21 Sep 10:21 – 10:22
The sound of cold winter afternoons waiting in front of an old cinema that almost exclusively plays forgotten short length movies from the 90s.
Smelling the pages of a brand new fresh out of the printer magazine, while winking at the monster you always thought awaits at the corridor of your grandparents house.
Lying on cheep mosaic floors in pastel pinks and greens, gazing at a ceiling you’ll never reach; breathing, blinking. Sounding out vocabulary exercises in German. Obsessively looking for the 07 am garbage truck that was always there for you.
Rushing to your French lessons in the middle of the night.
Don’t say more. Don’t let him see you all in blue, accidently falling in love with a spoon.
Just don’t look him in the eye.
Ignore. Forget that you used to skip school to catch a Kislofsky marathon and that you never learned how to ride the bike.
Keep it by your nightstand at all costs.
Let him throw his stuff all over the buss floor.
Let him teach you about poetry and cats that play the piano. About retro futurism and the music of the east. About sneaking on top of a theology school and making out with ice cream cones.
And when it’s gone.
The jar was always broken.
And the stars were free all along.
The fox rarely lies.
And the prince is still out there.
Just keep looking for the bear with the big bedroom eyes.