I do not know where to start. Let me grab my ipod and play some unnamed song of Gregor Samsa riding my regular tram 7.
I do not know where to head. Africa is in Brussels. Smells like it, feels like it, its sad.
It always makes me happy at the flea market in Jeu de Balle. I remember examining this old toy locomotive, the one you may also like.
Blame it to the global warming, strange weather these days in Bruss-hells. Its rainy or too hot. Wait, let me take off my pullover.
I have to orient my self. This burning ship knows the seaport calling for him and it is just a matter of time to find the correct path.
There is actually not one path. I already stayed with the road not taken. Meet many beautiful people along the way.
I have to keep up with it. Whenever I am tired, I know where to rest.
Just have to take care of my self. This is a dangerous world.
There is a lot to share,
A lot to write.
Just like you have done, tiny notes all around the floor…
Love is also around,
and someday my handicapped heart will recover…
Even if destined to rust forever alone, I know that you will always remain beside me.
