(bluegrey notes)

everything is perfect-in-details.

-

i am happy and thankful.
i (just) want to keep what i have.



maybe a man is a tree - its buds (and sharp ends) are now.



..

winding backwards - goods

mevsim degisikligi, typewriters, 'stories...', riding a bike and feeling like swimming, smelling the trees... 'i met a man named cleveland and he said: call me flowerman.' - flowerman's house- ,
salk, 'juarez', rosemary,.. wildrice, cranberries. i feel like burying what i ve found, like a dog.

( )

begun the,

strange dreams like the waves
which i am rowing against.

fisleri takip cikarirken, trying to be less sentimental (less selfish, more mature,..)
i might have unplugged the power chord.

is it that i connect to the world through myself only.. ?
(----when i stopped using a mirror* to look out,
*with a reflection of me on its corner: ---- )
when i stepped back into me, and started to see the
outside, everything, not as the images
but themselves, it all dried up so quick. i found my self with the world as a big ball
on my lap, trying to figure out how to get in, or what to do with it.