This morning I awoke in a rush while the rain outside pouring... A film I was remembered of. 'Underground' by Emir Kusturica. The day Balkan style. That's what brought me to this place first time. Food was served just like machine guns were fed to me. The Germans marching into Zagreb cheered by the locals. The trip continues. I am one feet above the ground. The months pass and still my freedom is grim, grey and dust at the moment. Getting a little better adjourned the summer is lost, so I must endure on own energy. I am kept in the dark fed with good intentions that make me lazy. By midday I was burnt out. I relinquish my memories of youth when I used to play in monsoon catching froggs and total freedom. Horseback on Elephants. The West is a grim place. Westerners are grey people. So am I.
Toulouse I was most happy. Great climate, friendly people. Once I was almost run over by a bus. I haven't seen home for more than eight months. At the moment Amsterdam. I miss my place. My own brainwash crap routine pain staking routine rat race run rush computer music balcony bed and all ustensiles of my kitchen cooking workbench neighbors. Dear neighbors.
Logics missing when the night has crept into the window
cramp. craving for more you.
The chair starts turning in whirl.
huricane dog. Ships around. Metal pscho institution.
Je manque.
Je sais que je t'aime. Qui ça? Elle sait. Ce n'est pas que des hormones.
Je suis un animal, un homme et viens de loin alors aurevoir et a demain.
A day has passed as birds sing a song
Has thou worshiped like them and theirs anthem
has thou let yourself guide just as them
And waken up thy highness the glorious Sun
With thy Morning Walk the river along
That before day break follows the stream
That thou has chosen.
Or be it Thou has slept the morning come
and be it nighted in a soul asleep.
Thy torch must be timely to the sun
And then will she be lit on day's break
And be it day in a soul awake.
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