charlotte_sometimes

I could never hold back the time. What happened is a part of the past and I cannot place the border of time in their emotional character. What happened few years ago – happened few seconds ago and it passed beside me. I cannot feel it right now as it was, it is not mine and I cannot say that I own anything else at the moment. So I looked at my grandfather, and the next time he was gone. I can only imagine how it would feel if he was still here.
I could not understand why people did not love distances. What about me? I created tangled route beforehand and then walked many, many miles. Now skyscrapers grow on both sides of the road, overtaking each other: gray, shabby and unfinished. I see myself in each one. I see myself in a painting of nude woman. I am going and the snow is beating in my face and a bird is flying over my nest.
I have always been in that mad search and I could not keep myself from countless walks to the city, into the moving mass of people, just looking for something new. I do not know how to name this condition, but I feel that overwhelming block, I feel its absence in me and i rush into search day by day. I come back home and have a headache because I did not find it. I want the Titans of feelings to burst inside me.
I lived in this city, where the streets are covered with broken concrete. I remember that car with hot asphalt in our yard and the asphalt flowing down from the roofs, filling windows. I knew this dog as puppy, but now the old dog was whining at my feet. I was driving in that bus and the moon was hanging above my head and i was ready to swallow every passing pine. The moon reflected in the window and it seemed to be two moons.
There are places where it is impossible not to return. I come here again and again. Sometimes I think that I am always here: in these latitudes and hallucinated depths, always here - stretched on the grass. Someone asks me to continue writing, but what the man with no home can say? Tell me.