Yesterday I meditate on the rhythm of the swelling waves upon the low tide of the Weser river. I watch perched upon the granite high wall of the Weserburg. The fishman smirk.
Today I study intently my German grammar book, puzzling over the logic of the four German grammatical cases intending to sort through.
Tonight I drink wine glass after glass and glass as our dinner party swells to 20 so people and I simply wander convo to convo in search of satisfaction.
Twenty fascinating people, a tumult of good food and sensual accuity.
I find HowLisa combined with wine results in the confessions of true family life in a semi-family home, the Wohngemeinschaft.
Tarika wishes to share her summer, attempts to live with a boyfriend, a man and still be a person on one's own. The theme of the summer.
Papa calls.
And American speaks to me.
A chilean with the Zealand accent and that tone of ease, a traveller.
A school student girl that is bicultural and at a party with her father until 1am.
A time to take them all to the bar and then return to our house guests alone all tough in the dark.
Good night.
Call me social, but let me sleep alone. Let me write in peace, and you can read.
Read that I am falling apart and that each confession is a new friendship, and the growing silence in my heart is actually the crecimiento of the new tree growing there- the return of my own silence,
that sound you can consider to by the story of my own soul.
I am.
Priyanka
31st July 2015
Today I study intently my German grammar book, puzzling over the logic of the four German grammatical cases intending to sort through.
Tonight I drink wine glass after glass and glass as our dinner party swells to 20 so people and I simply wander convo to convo in search of satisfaction.
Twenty fascinating people, a tumult of good food and sensual accuity.
I find HowLisa combined with wine results in the confessions of true family life in a semi-family home, the Wohngemeinschaft.
Tarika wishes to share her summer, attempts to live with a boyfriend, a man and still be a person on one's own. The theme of the summer.
Papa calls.
And American speaks to me.
A chilean with the Zealand accent and that tone of ease, a traveller.
A school student girl that is bicultural and at a party with her father until 1am.
A time to take them all to the bar and then return to our house guests alone all tough in the dark.
Good night.
Call me social, but let me sleep alone. Let me write in peace, and you can read.
Read that I am falling apart and that each confession is a new friendship, and the growing silence in my heart is actually the crecimiento of the new tree growing there- the return of my own silence,
that sound you can consider to by the story of my own soul.
I am.
Priyanka
31st July 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment