just got back from

and thought about this: destinatia urmatoare - copenhaga.
and if this article here will not convince you, nothing will.

photos: verde ursuz.


PEOPLE WHO MAKE US HAPPY ARE THE ONES WE LEAST EXPECT

My eyes hurt. My neck hurts. My hands hurt. My heart aches. Sometimes it feels like bursting out. But I quiet it down instantly. You can see that into my eyes if you're paying attention. Otherwise, you cannot tell the burden I carry with me. No one can. Not even the closest people. Who are those close people anyway?

Eyes are closing. So tired. Of places, of faces, but most of it of feeling. Of the feeling of feeling anything, especially love. What's the use of it if it vanishes into its own void? It's all chaos in the world, isn't it? It's all a matter of luck. And luck is pure accident. So one should not hope and one should not try because accidents happen or not.

Eyes are closing. My back hurts. So tired. Of words, of people, of walking. Can you feel it? This emptiness which strucks at night. What happened, I ask. But most of the time, I ask why. Then I stop. There is no answer. It's all a matter of accident, luck, void and chaos. A theory of inexistent love. If you look, if you really stop and look, take a pause from your happy perfect life, you discover anger, and hate, and hunger, and war. But then you smile, your favourite show's on TV. And you forget. Now everything's perfect again.

So tired. Of being honest, and silly... and me. But it's alright, really. I smile, things will be just fine. My favourite show's on TV.