I was in a large student house and my ex was upstairs and we were alone I was cleaning downstairs it was dark and winter and the streets were empty but all the windows were open to let the air in and then this creepy old homeless man with a dog started talking to me through the window and I tried to be polite but also said that I had to close the windows and I wasn't too scared 'cause I knew Jaanus was upstairs but the creepy man said that he didn't think so and started climbing in from the window and I said that my friend's upstairs he just smiled and came in and I tried to scream but my voice was lost and that's when I woke up
Stars are everything. They are time, chance and luck.
There were boys and girls under the stars. There was one boy for every girl and one girl for every boy. And for every star there was a boy and a girl in love. The stars were supposed to hold them together.
But the stars wondered around too much and got mixed up. So did the boys and girls.
Sometimes a boy or a girl would grab hold of a star, convinced it was theirs. Stars got confused of the wrong boy or girl and shook them down the edge of earth. That's how other stars lost their boys and girls. A beautiful idea and a plan full of love became a catastrophic bundle of nonsense.
Time passed. It was a rare thing now for the right boy or the right girl to find the right star, even more rare for the right boy to find the right girl or the other way around, and almost a miracle for them to meet under the right star together.
This is a story about Uku and Mai. ..............................................................
Or whoever YOU choose.
I feel autumn in my bones and winter in my heart. This is why I want spring in my head and summer in my veins. This should answer all your questions.
Stuart worked at a local bar where he officially got drunk from Thursday to Monday and not officially from Monday to Thursday. He had a ‘buddy’ called Harry (from Monday to Thursday he was referred to as a ‘drunk’). Harry was a middle-aged, big-nosed, comforting-faced, buddy-like person.
“What is happiness?” he once asked Stuart.
“Happiness is when you can abandon your whole life and not feel a thing,” answered the barman with a smirk. “’Cause that means you’re free and freedom is happiness. Past is a prison of shame.”
“That’s funny ‘cause I always thought it was the other way around you see. That committing to something you care deeply about is the way to go. Which brings me here, to this cozy little pub, trying to get pissed every day of the week when I know I can’t any more. What I’m really doing is committing to the one thing I care deeply about- rum!” Harry laughed. “Cheers, Stu!”
Stuart was left bemused. “Are you happy, my friend?”
“Happier with the glass than without it. I think. I am a drunk and you are a man with no past. When I look at you and then when I look at myself, I’d say we’re both far far faaaaaaar away from the answer. Far away from the truth,” said Harry and skulled the last of his rum.
Well I own this field, And I wrote the sky, And I have no reason to reason with you. I'd be sad that I never held your hand as you were lowered, But I'd understand that I'd never let it go. I'd be sad that I never held your hand as you were lowered, But I'd understand the world does what it does.
You never did learn to let the little things go. You never did learn to let me be. You never did learn to let little people grow. You never did learn how to see.
But I'd whisper that I love this man, Now and for forever, To your soul as it floats out of the window, To the world that you turned your back on, To the world that never let you be.
And I am lower now, and Laura still, And you did always say that one day I would suffer. Did always say that people get their pay. You did always say that I was going places, And that you wouldn't have it any other way.
But I couldn't turn my back on the world for what I like wouldn't let me. But I couldn't turn my back on the world for what I like, I needed. And I shouldn't turn my back on the sweet smelling blackberry stone.
'A woman was gossiping with her friend about a man whom they hardly knew - I know none of you have ever done this. That night, she had a dream: a great hand appeared over her and pointed down on her. She was immediately seized with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The next day she went to confession. She got the old parish priest, Father O' Rourke, and she told him the whole thing. 'Is gossiping a sin?' she asked the old man. 'Was that God All Mighty's hand pointing down at me? Should I ask for your absolution? Father, have I done something wrong?' 'Yes,' Father O' Rourke answered her. 'Yes, you ignorant, badly-brought-up female. You have blamed false witness on your neighbor. You played fast and loose with his reputation, and you should be heartily ashamed.' So, the woman said she was sorry, and asked for forgiveness. 'Not so fast,' says O' Rourke. 'I want you to go home, take a pillow upon your roof, cut it open with a knife, and return here to me.' So, the woman went home: took a pillow off her bed, a knife from the drawer, went up the fire escape to her roof, and stabbed the pillow. Then she went back to the old parish priest as instructed. 'Did you cut the pillow with a knife?' he says. 'Yes, Father.' 'And what were the results?' 'Feathers,' she said. 'Feathers?' he repeated. 'Feathers; everywhere, Father.' 'Now I want you to go back and gather up every last feather that flew out onto the wind,' 'Well,' she said, 'it can't be done. I don't know where they went. The wind took them all over.' 'And that,' said Father O' Rourke, 'is gossip!''
