Morocco was brutal. Not at all like what I expected. There were bits of fun here and there, which are what I mostly remember now anyways. I hated every bit of the gelogical shit bits of it, well i guess at the moment! Now it looks kinda cool what we did! Like crazy idiots measuring a 1.5 km long mountain with a 8 m meter under a 40 degree sky!

But there was that moment when we all jumped in the pool and teased each other and drank beer and got drunk half way through the first beer. Away from internet, away from phones, in a wasted floating world stuck with real people all day long. Away from knowing who’s doing what and who’s doing who.

I guess I am rolling everyday in this horrible situation I created. Dusts of past, stuck to me, covering my whole body, not being able to wash them off. I suppose the more I try to get the off they stick harder because I sweat so hard.

And there is that moment, over and over and over again. That one moment when I think I’m alright. And I tell myself it’s behind me, it all is, then I see or recall and it’s all back again.

But I have a plan, I always do. Lots of them. I always know whats wrong and how to fight. Except I’m a little Alice, I give myself very good advice but I hardly ever listen to them. Hurting and hurting and getting to know myself on the way. But i have a plan.

I have a plan

I have a plan

and I already feel better. Because this is one of those moments, when I tell myself it’s all behind me.

I wrote a letter, a love letter. Just as I finished the letter I realized I was breaking up with you in my love letter.
I suppose I have to think first what I want to do with you, then revise my letter.
and not to write you a break-love-up letter

Asking too much of me

Now I’m sitting in the car you are telling me about the difference between american foorball and Clicket, cant understand what you are saying I#m busy looking up at the buildins and roads and roadsigns sun is setting really slowly.
Now I’m in the living room sitting on the arm of black leather sofa, looking at you, you are sitting on the Piano chair, holding your guitar on your lab playing a song, you are playing my song. you show me your Cello, then you ran up the staris behind the piano to the door in the wall and bring a packet down. I’m nervous and scared and uncertain then I black out
We are now in Biero, I’m wearing those white shorts that I didnt bring back, you are talking with your friends I can’t hear you I’m wearing those Nine West Ankle boots
I’m in the car hanging out the window, you’re gone to buy something to eat sandwich? or is it chips? I try to find you in the store but somethings is blocking my view then you walk out looking happy having food in your hand

Now I’m in all those moments twirling and floating in between the moments are so vivid they cant be called memories anymoreI can relive them now, becasue they are not memories.

I need a Baloon, don’t we all?

In exactly 4 hours and 30 minutes , I’m fucked

cheers!

بوواهاهاهاهاهاه!!!!!!!!! بماند!

p.s: The fact is that, you exactly know, and you’ve already made your choice, choices are actions, right?

BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

صدای ساعت دیواری اتاقم خیلی بلند بود. یادمه هر وقت آدم غریبه ای تو اتاقم می خوابید یا تا ۲-۳ ساعت به ساعتم فحش می داد یا وقتی می اومدم تو اتاق می دیدیم رو میزه و باطریش پرت شده یه ور.

الان خیلی وقت ه به دیوار نیست، دیگه با هر تیک اش زلزله نمیاد. اما من ساعتمو خیلی دوست داشتم. به طرز عجیبی هم، با صداش می خوابیدم همیشه. با صدای بلند هر شب می گفت تیک تیک تیک تیک تیک… اغلب شبا که کامپیوتر تا صبح روشن بود صدای فن اش صدای تیک تیک عاجزانه و صبورشو می خورد اما اون شبایی که به هر دلیلی کامپیوتر خاموش بود یا برقا رفته بود می گفت تیک تیک تیک تیک و منم آروم و به طرز عجیبی بدون اینکه اعصابم از دستش خورد بشه به صداش گوش می دادم… ساعتم خیلی خوشگل و ساده و قانع بود.