She is feeling poetic
She got the urge to write
To get the thoughts out of her system
But it is not happening
Him: Go on. Disconnect. No sweet dreams for you
Her: Not needed. I’ve had my share for the day. You know me. Between a daydream and a daydream … I daydream. It is a continuous trip in my dreamyard.
Him: Until you take me there, these words are only words to me. Once spoken, they vanish into thin air … as if, they never even existed!
Her: Well, you have to fetch your own thorns. That is how it works. It is not about me taking you anywhere … it is about you feeling the urge to go!
Him: But I cannot learn to fly alone when I have been walking my entire life.
Her: Come to think about it … You do not want to go there. It is a dead end. Reality seems too boring afterward … I cannot guarantee you will be back the same.
Him: I do not like to fall
Her: Then it is useless to try. The fall is part of the trip.
Her: You triggered me to write!
Him: Then go ahead and do it!
Her: I am not able to … I need substance
Him: Reach into your mind and take a handful … I am sure there is plenty there!
Her: But my mind … it is blocked. Dark. Drained. I do not envy me anymore. The colors are gone.
Her: Can I translate our conversation in a post?
Discounts - Having restored the seven books of poetry with which I am at least partly content, I discounted the fuckers by 20% for an undisclosed length of time too. ...
2 days ago