12/13/2019
Floyd
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Secret means of small escapes
This time was connected with music, with magic, with hairstyles, clothes and ideology, with pleasures, feelings, smells and hopes, with passion and future and the doors were open, and through one I followed you only too gladly: Into a squatted house on some star, where the dust from the sofas in front of the blind window panes in the smoke of the Nag Champas in glittering hustle and bustle created a stage for little escapes. And nobody sang into my heart like Rio from this overdriven box, while you dried my shaggy clothes with curd soap, because they matted so much easier.
And so for hours they smelled softly steamed after a mixture of distant spices, after smoke and Nag Champa, the soapy flowers that grow on Indian sandalwood, and after the patchouli on our clothes from collections of old clothes that were mixed with incense the morning before, now it was rather smoke from the dragon's blood. What was I in love with at that time, with you and your being different, that brought me so much closer to what I was, so much further away from home.
Now I am free and I know who I am, and I know what I want to do, and I can feel you, can dive into past, can silently dig into memory. Now you're next to me, and I'm next to you,... Come on. Sleep with me.
And so for hours they smelled softly steamed after a mixture of distant spices, after smoke and Nag Champa, the soapy flowers that grow on Indian sandalwood, and after the patchouli on our clothes from collections of old clothes that were mixed with incense the morning before, now it was rather smoke from the dragon's blood. What was I in love with at that time, with you and your being different, that brought me so much closer to what I was, so much further away from home.
Now I am free and I know who I am, and I know what I want to do, and I can feel you, can dive into past, can silently dig into memory. Now you're next to me, and I'm next to you,... Come on. Sleep with me.
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