In a different autumn, I would have been embarrassed by sampling. Did I drag you along to the outermost mountains?

That we never really become a part of the world. The worried third is completely beside itself.

In the sunlight we quiver like something resembling precious stone resembling a sparkle from the depths of the Earth. I wrote letters to you in my thoughts and followed the movements of the road along the coast and the sea, hesitatingly.

I sailed across the sea, drifted across the sky. And that sky; was a crazy night. It is the wind blowing tunes through the rushes. Now I am just sailing in version �. When you say my name, my body answers. The northern lights hesitating in our voices. Parts of your dreams fell out between your lips. On a. It is always this slow gaze.

You say something. On the bus I wrote a text message for you.

Then I saw the third night in the stillness, in the distance.

In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details. And down through the skin to the bones, glittering-glittering, and through the bones until darkness merges with marrow. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. Yo

At the time you were still a part of the slow, black beings of the mountains against the desperately fragile silence of the night. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? In there behind the forest. Nothing should be forgotten. It is about surface.

Something glittered (glittered) between my fingers.

I could not forget what should be forgotten. That we never really become a part of the world.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? Sentences are an ocean. It was the forests.

There was nothing. In. It was parts of your dreams that fell out between your lips. What shall we do with the violent sky? On a big piece of white paper. I, hesitatingly.