I lay there listening to your heart. What should be forgotten? The last time I was happy was only this morning. Someone unfolds my thoughts and turns them into a bright future. It is always this slow gaze. Blue. Can I write that? I wrote myself into a frenzy back then. Was the wind really blowing? Who was it that wrote: The coffee I am drinking is mild in its taste. I have written you a map. Sentences whispered through the laundry and dropped a few caresses on my skin.