Settled but fragmented red and golden autumn in Stockholm. Not much to write these months while walking into Fall. Working full time as a language teacher my hands are full of letters: turning them upside down and inside out as time is drifting by my window to the outside world. By the end of the day they have all fallen into places, old or new ones, with or without meaning, some of them like sweet summer kisses and others just grown long and old. Qué tal? Left are, silent lips and sunburned images of timeless moments that I want to hold.
”Crispy ballet of drumming raindrops,
dripping serenade through the window.
Wind and water in symphonic sky,
skyline in beauty of angels’ cry,
and keeping on wondering: Why oh why?”