Then the day slowly closed in on our eyes. I think you had forgotten that one. The lime.

It is every single rock in my heart, slowly but inevitably turning into stars and sparkling diamonds. The ladder up to the sentence: I was the one who called the police. I try to draw your radiant eyes in my sentences. I listened with my lips, let my lips write faraway countries into your wrists. On the balcony, I sat in the sun following a sentence you had told me while asleep, saw it move inward and disappear in a sparkling diamond.

I sat somewhere quiet in the past, writing and drawing.

Wind, drag me with you across the plains, drag me all the way down to the cliffs. Then I saw the third night in the stillness, in the distance. I wrote nothing down in that period. The sand.

In the night a distant voice had nearly fallen asleep. Behind the trees.

The coffee I am drinking is mild in its taste. Your diamonds shine from my mouth. Can I be in this landscape?

Sentences whispered through the laundry and dropped a few caresses on my skin.

Out in the brightness of day, I found a handful of glittering, glittering diamonds. I love to wake up and see you wake up. All around I could only pull myself together to read a few random lines.

The coal. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details. From the coolest gadgets we find a way to kill boredom. On a screen. Black. I walked in the wildest drone while the sky’s funk tugged at my clothes until night took over. I lay in the darkness and turned my thoughts on so they could see through the quiet. In the day we write old books, and every time we breathe out, others breathe in.

Afterwards I spent hours reading. The serene sky. And we. As if someone had written, blindly, on their own memories. The shadows shadowed. I love to wake up and see you wake up. I read your lines. It is always this slow gaze. I get the day going, writing quietly. Are you on the other side of the sea?

Something was dull (was dull) between my fingers. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. If I had met you earlier, I would also have followed your gaze.

In the night a distant voice had nearly fallen asleep. When I wrote your name in the shadows, a ray of sun fell through my window. Your diamonds shine in my mouth. And yet, was it the big systems I feared? Grey.

This is how you answered. It is about surface. I wrote nothing down in that period. This is not a game.

Notes. Descriptions.

The seagulls in the streaming water and up on the sky. Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains?

Behind the trees.

Wind, drag me with you across the plains, drag me all the way down to the cliffs. Can I write that? Somewhere behind the eyes a careful lamp looks.

At the time you were still a part of the slow, black beings of the mountains against the desperately fragile silence of the night. My bones are also making sounds, and inside them a dark being undulates and moves.

Somewhere behind the eyes a careful lamp looks. When I wrote your name in the shadows, a beam of sun fell through my window. Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? We are the delicate, speaking distantly to the quiet. The pain sailing on streams of gold in dawn’s canopy of light. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. Which night followed the night? Of other cities, other worlds. Something opened up. I sailed between your lips and kissed the meteorites glittering down through the atmosphere.

It was before you could disappear.

Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun. Later, one of the following nights, as we followed each other down through each our idea of it, I could no longer hide the words, the sentences, the images. Suddenly one night, giraffes fell from your dreams. Someone unfolds my thoughts and turns them into a bright future.

When I do not see you, I do not see you. In the night a distant voice had almost fallen asleep. It was before you could disappear.

Are you on the other side of the sea? When I said your name, all I heard was the quiet whisper through the sand. If I had met you earlier, I would also have followed your gaze. Sentences are. Can I write like that? You put it in my window, on my window sill. We have neither curtains nor tight schedules.