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you are the smell before rain
Created on 2006-12-02 08:57:56 (#11739552), last updated 2009-07-28
7 comments received, 79 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
54 Journal Entries, 2 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 1 Userpic
Basic Info| Name: | subsequent |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1989-03-20 |
Bioi need to be able to write
though it might not always be written as coherent as i want it to be.
i like to sit in my bed, listen to those musicians who pour their hearts out in their lyrics. i like to sit by the kitchen table and watch my mother cook while we give each other pieces of our everyday life. i like to visit my grandmother - i walk up the stairs in her house, open the door to the bathroom and then, the next i remember is that i stand on the black tiles, i look down on the tiny sink beneath my knees and up on the round mirror a few centimeters above my head. what i love the most are all the details i discover when i am in love; the feeling of my chest softening because i give and i get and the pieces given and gotten are still held as you held them yourself; to be kissed in the nape of the neck; to stand behind the bookshelves in the library and to secretly admire the one who stands there beside you; to stamp the notes in my paperdiary with written dates and afterwards remember how the words felt because i remember 29/10 - 05.
sometimes i try to convey myself the way others would conveyed themselves in moments photographed. yet every written word depends on your memory.
though it might not always be written as coherent as i want it to be.
i like to sit in my bed, listen to those musicians who pour their hearts out in their lyrics. i like to sit by the kitchen table and watch my mother cook while we give each other pieces of our everyday life. i like to visit my grandmother - i walk up the stairs in her house, open the door to the bathroom and then, the next i remember is that i stand on the black tiles, i look down on the tiny sink beneath my knees and up on the round mirror a few centimeters above my head. what i love the most are all the details i discover when i am in love; the feeling of my chest softening because i give and i get and the pieces given and gotten are still held as you held them yourself; to be kissed in the nape of the neck; to stand behind the bookshelves in the library and to secretly admire the one who stands there beside you; to stamp the notes in my paperdiary with written dates and afterwards remember how the words felt because i remember 29/10 - 05.
sometimes i try to convey myself the way others would conveyed themselves in moments photographed. yet every written word depends on your memory.
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