A shy room, an intimate room. In the night a distant voice had almost fallen asleep.

The water and everything that grows so strangely out of the blue. You dragged me down to the outermost mountains. I have written you a map. I listened with my lips, let my lips write faraway countries into your wrists. To speak was too much. Resisted, but wrote: nothing. On the bus I wrote a text message for you.