I can smell
I can smell the rain, a tickling ozone sense in my nose that makes me think I am running on the plains of the serenghetti, not riding in a cab through Amsterdam. It is going to fucking throw down from the sky in volumes, water crashing on water crashing on water, and the skys will roll and dance with the excitement of it all.
I talked to my mum today, and she was crying inside. Dad's not bad but he's far from good, and I can't stop thinking about what I couldn't hear down the phone. I'm going home at the weekend.
And my wife is the most fucking fantastic and wonderful thing in the world, gravity, the reason, the point to it all. She's wonderful, and I am very glad to have her in my life. And I guess the reason I'm still smiling inside despite myself.
But I can still smell the rain...
I talked to my mum today, and she was crying inside. Dad's not bad but he's far from good, and I can't stop thinking about what I couldn't hear down the phone. I'm going home at the weekend.
And my wife is the most fucking fantastic and wonderful thing in the world, gravity, the reason, the point to it all. She's wonderful, and I am very glad to have her in my life. And I guess the reason I'm still smiling inside despite myself.
But I can still smell the rain...