L’air frissonne des choses qui s’enfuient

I don't 

even know 

what we talk about 

I just listen 

to the sound of his voice 

and to his laugh

and to the sound 

of him listening
to me

Summertime sadness

talking animals

Spend five minutes cooking pasta and a whole other hour musing about it. Have strange vivid dreams of talking animals. Live in a library. Be skinny and pale and not pretty in a typical sense but unconventionally attractive. Listen to The Beatles. Lose something and look for it (cat, wife, etc.). Shovel cultural snow. Meet the Sheep Man. Feel an inordinate amount of pain but still survive.

HARUKI MURAKAMI

“Can’t I live in poems?”

Don't sleep so sad