let lemons be angry

Today i was very happy because I could hear above the chatter.

Like an antenna or a primary school teacher, picking up the Gist and the In-between.

What we talked about today wasn't as important as dawn's new shorts, the massive black cherries in the blackforest tart, the cocoa explosion I caused with my ever-stabbing fork, and the coffee that was so, so good.

And the book. The books, that I have not read in forever. As a kid I read all the time, and when I wasn't reading books I was writing them and stapling them together, complete with reserved rights and space for Notes at the back. I stopped in uni when I made more friends and spent my nights talking to them, and when I got an mp3 player and had something else to do on buses. A pity, because the week of my greatest growth was in July 2004, when I read on the bus everyday. These weeks have seen me grow wings, because I have started to read again. I read as I walked, and I read as I worked on photoshop.

These weeks have been crystal clear. No more grey. The soles of my shoes are still sticky, but I scrape them on the floor a little cleaner every day. Just by deciding to, I am finding myself again.