Harvest; snacks and tissues.

I wish it was the 60’s and I had dreams. We all had dreams. Hard candy, cold water dreams. I wish all music was stereo and sounded as if we were inside it. Is it possible to not make typing mistakes? I wish there were more boat puzzles, where the ocean gets confused with the sky. The life of vanity and insanity. We could tell our children about the sunsets in California. We could tell our children about unwarm sunny days and the empty breeze of cloudy weather. We could tell our kids about rock and roll and forgiving. Tell my friends to come over to white sofas and right-angled furniture, in the happiness of our minds, the distorted confusion. Ten minutes of a song wouldn’t be enough. The playlist of life. I wish we could love like music loves us. I wish there was a perfect soundtrack and a perfect breath for every instant in life. We could sleep in blankets in bugless grass and drink sparkly mint drinks. We could be happy in the sand. We could be happy in the snow. We could be happy inside and out, candycould always be made of sugar and pink and brown and we could eat it all day long, counting the cars on the streets. I wish I could tell my love to be quiet and my heart to keep a pace. Does it ever? If there was beauty in every word and everyone was talented we could spend the nights counting the stars. Empty comfortable rooms, thick pillows, thick blankets. Thick white blankets. Who would come to my parties? Who would come along to seize the day? Finish the soda while staring at the silver meal. All of the time, all the sensations in my pores. We are all genetically made for desire. I bet nature never thought we could survive love.

As for me, guilty as charged, overwhelmed by the hour. And it feels damn good. playlist: like a hurricane, down by the river, i believe in you. all songs by neil young.

(Escrito em inglês sim, um presente para um amigo.)