love me and come back tomorrow

I wouldn't mind at all if they fell from the sky and landed miraculously on my feet.

 

In crappy photoshop land.

So I sent myself out on a mission to get me one of these.



Didn't work out but I still got a fun response. :)

I remember one thing, whilst I am looking out the window.
Catching snowflakes falling in my field of vision simultaneously while thoughts simmer like unspoken words.
I remember a horse, white as the snow and stubborn as a donkey.

We spoke under a silence that felt like a thick dusty mist.
Bearing no more words than expressions.
No more expressions than condensed air.
No more thoughts shared than needed.

I searched his body with my eyes.
Looking up and down at him like there was something that needed to be trapped.
Hunted down with a piercing stare.
I remember the lustre of his fur, gleeming back at me in a hypnotising way.
A tremble, shiver starting around his mane and traveling along his back as a contagious sideeffect.

I trapped it.
His soul.
I had it.
The hurt, the angst, the turns, the bits and pieces of him missing.
I felt it.

"What's wrong with his left hind leg?"
No answer.
"Something is wrong with it. I can tell."

Silence.

A damp voice reaching from a void.
"Nothing. He had an injury when he was a yearling. But that is long gone."

Is it really?
Is it now, really?
Then how come could I tell?

It still puzzles me.
We tilt our heads and smile without recognition.
Like dogs looking at their masters.
Never searching for a question.
I always loved the question, more so than the answer.
Maybe this is why I believe more in spirituality than religion.

I didn't know you then and I don't know you now but I still love you for pointing me in the right direction.
Thank you white horse. I hope your leg is on the recovery.

Wonderful photos by Simen Johan.

If I'm lucky.

John Galliano.





Fendi.

The Fox and The HoundRabbit.
 

I walked home.
With a feeling of unconsciousness going through my body.
Like I did not know what had just hit me.
Or why I had let something ruin a night that could have been perfect.

But I had to carry on.

I reached the halfway mark.
My eyes outlined a bench, where I sat.
Without realizing there was a man sitting beside me.
I placed my both hands on the bench loose right next to my body.

I must have looked dreadful since he put one of his hands over mine.
I looked up with a facial expression that most likely conveyed indifference.
And he looked at me back.
His face did not move. Neither did his hand.

I should have been thrown back.
But some times I have this feeling.
That I can clearly see ones true intentions.
And I knew he was true.
He did not want anything from me.
It was like I saw through him for a moment.
And I am certain he saw through me.
How else would he know that right there and then, all I needed was somebody to hold my hand?
It is weird how a complete stranger can care about you more than anyone at a certain time.
Nobody could reach me, but he did.
I did not ask for him to save me. But somehow he did.

I loosened my hand and left.
I did not look back and I knew he did not look after me when I left.
If he did I would have felt it.