We stood in there and told stories and listened. I’m just waiting around for the fucking sun. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details. I sailed across the sea, drifted across the sky. A dark being oozes from my mouth and seems quiet. Every night the mind of the sun strikes a chasm through the mountains.

I sat and listened to the blue, blue sky, the laundry and the pigeons, seagulls, swallows (were they really swallows?).