rebecka lindmark > i lick it off the tiles

554 cigarettes & not
a drop of silk in my throat.

prologue: the Greek sage reeked heavenly, with earth’s spine beneath me. I stomped mountains at dusk, yellow streets at dawn. Read Rimbaud together with the big, ol' snake of the lavender garden. Nights played like high fevers, while I worked my way through Spanish mountains. all day I stared at an endless sun, and also at Paco (not endless, my neighbour).
Harvest came, and then I went—to taste the seas, and love; yes love; I fell in love. afterwards I learned how to love—amongst other things—but first of all I had to fall. (I now think that all things both begins and ends with falling).
I melted on his tongue like a cube of white sugar.