A restaurant that never has to close breakfast at every hour it could save the world
I think breakfast became something poetic because by definition it's something we do shortly after we wake up. And needless to say, waking up represents a new day. A new beginning, and it's something we get to do to every morning. That is kind of a miracle. I can't think of anything that shifts faster than human emotions, so whenever I feel unclean or generally disgusted with myself there's always that idea that I can start all over again tomorrow. Sometimes it's as little as trying to eat healthier and other times it could be adjusting to be alone again. I enjoy discovering lines like that. To me that's what poetry is all about. Sooner or later you're bound to find a little gem, overlooked by most people and it speaks to you in ways the author never intended. Maybe that's how the really good ideas are born. Let the lesson be, as long as you never shut up you might be part of something big. In that completely unintentional way. And I wouldn't really expect credit.
This song reminds me of a book. About a girl who loved a boy who couldn't love her back the way she wanted. He was sick so she had to watch him die and after it was all over she had to comfort his boyfriend who was responsible for their illness in the first place. This book reminds me of snow because it took place in those weeks between fall and winter. Snow reminds me of a Christmas we spent living in New York. Except this particular Christmas we weren't in New York, we were at this... I remember thinking mansion. Country house really; big, white, hundred years maybe. A vast garden with centuries old trees, all naked in the snow. And most importantly, horses. I rode among the trees all Christmas morning and the world was black and white, with a hint of blue above me, but mostly white. Sometimes I go back to that place, in my head. Mom had made lunch so I had to go inside eventually and I found Jamie in front of the TV watching some Christmas special and had I been a little older maybe I had caught the sadness in his blank stare but as it was I couldn't think of a better way to defrost my cheeks than in the company of Chip and Dale. That was one of the best days of my life. I forget faces and names, but I rarely forget smells. Did you know snow smells? Or maybe it was just the Christmas tree and chestnuts.
Well. Hey, do you do judo when they surround you?
This song reminds me of a book. About a girl who loved a boy who couldn't love her back the way she wanted. He was sick so she had to watch him die and after it was all over she had to comfort his boyfriend who was responsible for their illness in the first place. This book reminds me of snow because it took place in those weeks between fall and winter. Snow reminds me of a Christmas we spent living in New York. Except this particular Christmas we weren't in New York, we were at this... I remember thinking mansion. Country house really; big, white, hundred years maybe. A vast garden with centuries old trees, all naked in the snow. And most importantly, horses. I rode among the trees all Christmas morning and the world was black and white, with a hint of blue above me, but mostly white. Sometimes I go back to that place, in my head. Mom had made lunch so I had to go inside eventually and I found Jamie in front of the TV watching some Christmas special and had I been a little older maybe I had caught the sadness in his blank stare but as it was I couldn't think of a better way to defrost my cheeks than in the company of Chip and Dale. That was one of the best days of my life. I forget faces and names, but I rarely forget smells. Did you know snow smells? Or maybe it was just the Christmas tree and chestnuts.
Well. Hey, do you do judo when they surround you?