Nighttalk and so on

"I completely agree with you!"
And the voices drown, the chattering flows around, slides on the lips and shines through the eyes. And it's all there, you are lost. You have absolutely no idea of why you're saying what you're saying. That wasn't what you thought, or the way you thought it! And it still feels okay, your goldfish soul can leave it all behind without any special regret on next week's menu. So maybe the words aren't that important anyways, not all of them at least. How do you know when you can treat a word carelessly and when a single phrase can change a relationship, a relationsheep, a movie, a life?
Some other times you do listen to yourself speaking without any feedback at all. That's more like an echo. The little cynical and critical beast sitting inside yout head and the amazed little lady sitting on the corner of your lips-waiting for the next passionate kiss, they all enjoy your ways of showing the world the fantastic ingenuity you posseed. Or your genius-like idiocracy.

All the king's horses and all the king's men

the A.T.

the Arse Theory.

I do actually believe in it. It´s in some way always hard to cope with the fact that things have an end. A beautiful summer, a dusty spring, some love, life and such things. Not that it would be good if they all lasted forever. None of the cases would work out perfectly anyways, that´s why I completely agree with monkeys and goats when they think "Humans ARE complicated".

Back to the arse theory.

Once upon a time, the arse was the physical human end. Men and women didn´t accept it, and stood up, making the end become the center. Their initial end wouldn´t touch the ground unless they were tired. Or unless they fell.

Do we still think we can fly somehow?

I like the word "still". And the word "anyways". They´re hopeful words.

Rainbow

Well, only if you still think that colours are like feelings. 

Red

Green

Inside, outside and behind the camera

The two sides of light

A rush of blood to the toe

So ladies and gentlemen,  I do get angry. 

I get upset when people start calling "eternity" for "infinity" and infinity for eternity. Nobody wants to live forever, so eternity isnt that big deal anyways. 

Infinity is just there, a second away from us. So that should actually not be a problem either, anyone can be infinite in so many ways. And that is what I think is amazing about people. They never stop surprising you, and when you think "she´s never gonna get up from that fall" -whaa, she raises up and smiles at you.  

Then, there are all the limits. And believe me, death is just one of a few. The limits you build while you grow up become your past. The barriers in your life are the ones you build yourself, and there are no excuses. Not that limits are bad. They´re just a part of the process really. The people you haven´t seen since you were twelve, those who don´t remember you anymore, those who black out, the ones you forget. But you never surrender, you know a smile is waiting for you at the next stop. You keep on running because running is all you can. 

Running though, never rushing. You do feel the air you breathe in, you feel ever punch and every heartbeat as unique. You live and travel, you slide on this world´s surface as if it was the only thing you ever were good at.

You walk the desert streets and allow yourself to cry. But you never sit down, you keep on walking, and your mind walks with you. You don´t evolve or grow up, you just become yourself, again and again. A new yourself for each time you think of it. 

You keep up, and love is all around.

Over and out, ladies and gents. 

Just-so-you-know, etc

 I know my english is a strange one. But the reason for my writing in a language that is actually not mine is right here:

a good friend of mine asked "perchè scrivi in inglese?!". Another good friend of mine asked "Hvorfor skriver du ikke på norsk?".

 The latest pictures are on their way. I lost one of my cartridges, the other negatives are about to come. I´ll just have to dig up some of my dirt from my suitcase (that thing I lately have started calling "home").

That´s a strange thing too. It´s been a long time since I´ve called "home" my actual home. I call "home" my hostel, my friend´s sofa, my brother´s place. I might end up calling "home" a bench at the airport. 

I like the concept. Home´s where my suitcase is. 

©

You can't really describe them, and you surely don't see many of them around. That would be too delightful an inflaction. The smiles that make you smile.

Shh

That's when they tell you that "you seem lost". Or that your eyes do. The thing is, you're not even really focusing on what your eyes focus on. You just look, but in that very moment you could have been blind, it would't have made any difference. The rivers of your mind become falls, and the flow goes crazy in silence. Everything is perfectly still outside, and your eyes do seem lost. It's the cost.

So you only see it against the light

Spechiüs

Twin souls do not need to spend a life toghether. I guess we agreed on that. It's more of a constant smile when eyes meet again, a laugh that's impossible to stop. Snow and smoke in the winter air, the lights of the city seem to stand up and walk around.

A-part

Incense, nutmeg

In the middle of the dark church I heard you break the silence with your breath. One thousand bugsteps away on the soft stoney ground you told your secret. You told it slowly, 'cos truth's like honey, and pain never flows fast.

Smaragdus

You smile softly and break the light lines,
frozen eyelashes 'round your golden dimes.
Clouds in your mind, cotton in the veins
bite the crystal, build castles in vain.

She stops, again. The icy ground sticks to her thoughts, capturing nerves through shoes and snow. She turns around, but the traces've already disappeared. The letters have sunk in the cream.

Light feelers

Freeze flame

Grey

Ruby