Picture taken in Hamburg, 2009.
The dust is lingering thick and heavy but we don’t care. When we’ll wake up it’ll be gone. Pictures that your sister took make me feel all warm inside. Fingers touching each other like they’re holding onto the world. If the world falls out of my hands, it’s over. Humming and whispering and sighing and blinking. It’s our own little fairytale. Our wonderland. We don’t have to grow up. The day turns into the night. Running on an hour of sleep. Still we don’t get tired. Still we can’t get enough. As long as we can stay in this world, we will.
The walls are decorated with postcards, ripped and put back together, glued to the old wood. Sun is shining through the broken window, filling the air with gold. The sun is hugging me. The moon is covering you in silver. We look at each other like we’re made to do so.
And still our fingers are tangled together. For what I hope could be forever.
And forever ended today.
