garden of words and thought of daniella
between hills of snow and soft warm smoke
"we drifted away, because there wasn't that spark."
last few days, and i haven't had a chance to breathe
so busy with nothing, these lists and stars.
one week from today, where will i be?
it's been over a year, since i was torn apart,
lust and desire, when will it stop?
nothing is constant, nothing remains the same
this too will pass, these two lost lovers.
and tolstoy says it all:
"hearing the strange tone in Eroska's voice,
Olenin turned to look at him.
The old man's eyes were filled with tears,
and one rolled down his cheek.
He was crying."
shinkai's colours,
in daniella's eyes.
kozelek's sighs,
these aimless wanderings.
marshall's calm,
to their sad fumbling.
there's zoran in Eroska,
and Olenin in i,
all frames shifting,
all things changing.