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08/04/2018
pudelbonzo
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pudelbonzo
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5
Off to the tropics...
... this call would not lure anyone out behind the fridge at the moment, because even in Bochum, which is admittedly not sunny, tropical temperatures prevail.
The pot's boiling.
I have barricaded myself in the house and set the climate to storm.
I read enviously - in Reykjavic 14 degrees and occasional rain.
That's it.
Ride an Icelandic pony and follow the tracks of trolls and elves.
Listen to music by Björk.
Nevertheless, I spray tropics, and hope for relieving coolness from the scent.
But far from it.
This fragrance spreads a dense sultriness which does not suit me at all.
The grapefruit is still promisingly fresh, but afterwards the scent condenses into a bitter woody colour and becomes duller and more opaque.
Waft of mist in the tropical forest.
Maybe you like this picture in the frosty winter - but at the moment I don't need this sweaty feeling at all.
I'd rather put in Björk - and dream of Iceland.
The pot's boiling.
I have barricaded myself in the house and set the climate to storm.
I read enviously - in Reykjavic 14 degrees and occasional rain.
That's it.
Ride an Icelandic pony and follow the tracks of trolls and elves.
Listen to music by Björk.
Nevertheless, I spray tropics, and hope for relieving coolness from the scent.
But far from it.
This fragrance spreads a dense sultriness which does not suit me at all.
The grapefruit is still promisingly fresh, but afterwards the scent condenses into a bitter woody colour and becomes duller and more opaque.
Waft of mist in the tropical forest.
Maybe you like this picture in the frosty winter - but at the moment I don't need this sweaty feeling at all.
I'd rather put in Björk - and dream of Iceland.
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