OLLY'S

and I’m still here writing about thoughts and situations.

Like hesitating, exactly what I’m doing now.

Hesitate about tomorrow, so difficult to understand if it is worth or not;

Hesitate about what’s very often in your mind, so impossible to get rid of.

The Fleet Foxes, English House, that gypsy, effortless, a bit unsatisfied style.

Constantly moving, rest is not an option. What for?

Just to keep this head occupied, just not to be bored, just to feel.

It’s time to plan something, maybe.

On this airport bench that gives me nothing more than pain o the ass, I listen to Belle and Sebastian with my crappy brand new 7 euros no-bass headphones.
Bitter taste in my mouth.
besides another bloody hour here waiting for the comeback plane.
Arriving in two, leaving alone.
Twee halen, een betalen.
Special offer just for this Monday.
Punching walls in my mind, sitting on an airplane to Copenhagen in my imagination, but just a delayed ticket in my hands..
Feelings that just your eyes can express, no words allowed.
Words that just somebody can understand, noone else considered.
Piango.

Lazy line painter Jane – Belle and Sebastian

Typical.

Frank Sinatra, Chistmas.

Like a T-Bone with Chianti,

Like like jeans and t-shirt,

Like a 50mm prime.

It’s like reaching the finish line, after a race:

the moment in which you realize your efforts are not vain’

relief

all the tension goes away, it’s over now.

Only the descent now, chill.

Closed eyes.

The spinning sound of a girl walking on the wooden floor just above me.

I’m just wondering what is she doing..

Going out from my window, flying high in the fuckin’ rainy sky of Amsterdam, going up north, opening my arms and starting the zooming; then turning around, and down, faster, faster, even more, till you touch the fronzen water of the northern sea with you nose, feeling the shiver starting from there and reaching the top of your toes, bouncing back right to the brain.

Melting into the couch, cup of tea, outside raining, inside shining.

Dreaming the last few hair remaining.

Feeling the warmth around.

Dreaming that blue where I use to vanish.

Tricky – You don’t

“E’ un destino crudele quello di chi ha l’anima ligia al dovere e il cuore fuorilegge”

In Vespa – Giorgio Bettinelli

It just that I hate to say no.

It’s just that I said too many yes’

My hoarse voice, so clear and sure as torn. My hands, so hungry, so shrunk now.

She just wept – Stereophonics

I cannot forget that image, those five letters are stuck somewhere between my eyes that I can’t push them away.

They pinches me, fuck. But, as Morrisey always suggests me, “is such a heavenly way to die”.

Pleasure.

Crossing fingers, crossing eyes, crossing bikes, crossing boards, crossing steps.

Everything crosses, creates new nodes, develop new branches.

Everything’ s electric, shakes your wobbling brain cells, your numb inside.

A plastic world tries to inhibit your nature, peace of mind all over me.

Waking up, an Ikea glass with coffee.

Such a perfect combination, so transparent, so clear.

There’s a light that never goes out – The Smiths

With fire in my hands

I like magenta.

I laughed a lot. Wandering in a city and playing with it like in a playground.

I saw eyes crying for too many laughs, I saw worn-out eyes, I saw flaring eyes. We had red eyes.

The pleasure of warm touch, the joy of bullshitting. The fear for an angry sleeping smurf that wants to kill me.

Teardrop – Massive attack