(no subject)
I have a dream, where a million mosquitos are knocking at our front door. where we live by wind, where we carry our vegetables wherever we go. Theyre blossoming down the road, planted in an open trailer carried by our home. These arent things to dream to write, these arent things to wish to paint, these are dreams to do. To follow the green right down the coast, to drive there smelling of french fries. To never pay for gas, to never pay for food, to build a home and to never return to anyone elses ideals, to live without money and to not worry about paying.
A long time ago I had a moment in time with a man a million years older than me. He told me all the secrets of the universe, or of what living really entails in the end. I took it all too litterally, theres a sense of perfect understanding now, years and years later, after i flew above the forest and dreamed for a year and a minute all at once. Some things you carry with you forever, some things are just placed, perfectly where you need them.
A long time ago I had a moment in time with a man a million years older than me. He told me all the secrets of the universe, or of what living really entails in the end. I took it all too litterally, theres a sense of perfect understanding now, years and years later, after i flew above the forest and dreamed for a year and a minute all at once. Some things you carry with you forever, some things are just placed, perfectly where you need them.