I can be a feeling. A pure feeling. And a feeling only.

I never get anxious in this place where we’re living. I remember the flat we had before. I couldn’t stay alone at night there, I was so afraid. Something was overwhelming. The dust. The man with a cat who lived close by. And another neighbour, whom I saw naked through the window, while passing by. The neighbor I still meet sometimes and say hello to. He has a red car. But I have never seen him driving.

A relief. Silence of the after all well known landscape. I am back and I will write all the pictures down. Write pictures down.

I will wait until 22:22. Then I will kiss you. 9 words. 22 words. In the evening. At night. The night. Pages filling up. Where do I find those words? What do you do while it rains? It pours. It sounds. What would you do at night, in the forrest, if we met there? Between mine and yours. Worlds. Words. Written a few seconds ago. Saved.

56°25’02.4″N 9°21’22.8″E could be this place. But try to swap N with E. And we will drown.

A letter. He writes me a letter sitting in a small town, in a little coffee shop without a fancy name. I see him there. I can smell the bad coffee and I can taste a good homemade cake. I get inside. He doesn’t expect me there at all. I sit down at his table. Take my coat off. I look at him. We are now one year older. The woman asks me if I want a cup of coffee. I nod. She goes behind the counter. We sit quietly. The plastic flower in the vase doesn’t smell. He leans towards me and kiss me. I don’t protest.

I opened the window and for a moment I felt bliss. It was an unreachable juncture that I grabbed and immediately forgot. There was nothing else left. Just like when you leave and I have to start from the beginning each and every time. Maybe tomorrow morning will be different? Maybe I will be able to read again? Maybe we will forget each other, because this is what is expected from us.

I have no idea where you are. I opened up. An open secret.

I went to the forest. I couldn’t see a thing. I felt blind. I couldn’t hear a thing. I felt deprived of the sense of hearing.

— A little girl is drawing something with a pencil. She whispers something to herself. She doesn’t want to close the window. Is she listening to the sounds that come from the outside? It’s all outside.