ink.

…coffee is the answer.

plus a script and a storyboard in a pub on a rainy afternoon.

one year’s passed me by. or the other way around, i’m yet to decide.

i’m not around much lately. desperately trying to cancel life for 5 to 10 minutes but i guess it just won’t work.

slowly giving up all things digital and technology.

wishing for a record player.

welcome my friend.

Distance is not growing, for the missing pieces between 2 souls cannot be retrieved.

but sometimes

it’s as though the same distance wraps its arms around us. Calm and tender, difficult to acknowledge.

Violent and raging, sucking you into its void.

sometimes

is the word that’s slowly becoming some sort of raison d’etre.

And i sometimes forget.

And start thinking that whatever keeps us miles apart should be immaterial. Distance should be a mere thought. A consequence of our actions. A couple of delayed seconds between 2 stopwatches. Distance should be measured in seconds. Minutes. Light years.

in some ways, some people’s distance is, for one does get old in the meantime.

For others, it can’t be.

My distance is watery, growing bigger and bigger everytime it rains. sometimes tsunamis bring things back, leaving nasty scars

i was here

To love is to write poetry.

To be loved is to inspire poetry.

Love is poetry.

and i’ve stopped writing long ago.

There’s nothing as hard to bear as post beer depression.

Found out i ain’t gonna see my family this summer. It’s all for the best, tho i don’t particularly fancy the idea of travelling from West London where i’ll be living to Luton and Brighton.

I miss my cat.

I feel an outburst of randomness kicking in.

Reading 5 books at a time again. My head spins.

Have to wake up at 4am.

*drops dead*

I miss a few persons. I like non rhotic accents. And M&S. Can’t find any Metallica on my hard disk. I’ll have to deal with Clann zu. or vdgg. or camel.

some beatles might do.

Nice to meet you. Sorry, can’t remember your name. it won’t be long.

it’s been a pleasure.

I heard it happens to the best of us.

Why does it happen to me all the time?

My name is diana and i’m sad.

I lost my parker fountain pen. I want it back.

All in all, i hate to acknowledge my life is now somewhere else.

p.s.

cider >>beer. say it isn’t so.

Wish i could turn kilos into inches. This way tho, everything is lost.

On a different note, tired and emotional kids are awesome. But i don’t think i could handle English should i get drunk.