i miss waking up in the friendly city. that country is utterly fantastic.
being in the country makes you feel like the country is actually inside of you -
stealing your bones and replacing them with fire and alcohol
hours and hours spent up in the air. until we touch the ground, the sand, the ocean.
the air is thick. you can smell the salt coming from the water. and i worshipped the sun.
we made love on that first night. shortly after the hellos and my-name-is
day three and suddenly there are christmas lights and a tree in the lobby
santa claus, do you ever come to the ghetto?
there's something about waking up in another country. just knowing that you are halfway across the world from reality is mindblowing and ruthless and quiet all at the same time
there were the mornings i woke up and ate breakfast in front of the ocean
there were the evenings i spent reading or writing with my feet buried deep in the sand.
i dont think i've ever learned so much about myself
there were two nights (mornings) that i faced myself in someone's bathroom mirror
i watched my eyelashes touch my eyelids and i watched my front tooth grab my bottom lip and i watched my chest rise and fall as i inhaled the early sunshine and exhaled the evening's lust
looking at yourself in someone else's bathroom mirror is a raw reflection
you are exposed and vulnerable and heated
you need a cigarette but you won't have one.
what happens in stays in .
because this morning, i woke up in canada.
