I had fallen out of a spotted sleep and into a deep melancholy and now I drove on through the sorrow of the landscape. The clothes on my body hangs on my body. Sentences are an ocean. We are a conversation rising up behind the eyes.
You dragged me towards the distant mountains like that. Take this morning, for instance: Did I drag you along to the outermost mountains? When I said your name, all I heard was the quiet whisper through the sand.