embrace was once here

This town's alright

But it's not enough

I'm looking for a quick exit

Like a prisoner on the run

Big time breakdown

Look how the stars come out

Big time breakdown

Why didn't you just shout

I'm lonely and I'm looking

For a place to go

Where everything's an embrace

And everybody wants to know

senses make sense

it's dark now
but they feel each other's breath
and they know all they need to know
they kiss
and they feel each other's tears on their cheeks
and if there was anybody to see them, 
then they would look like normal lovers
caressing each other's faces 
bodies close together
eyes closed
oblivious to the world around them
because that is how life goes on
like that.


(ending part of movie "Perfect sense"..)


How does it really feel to meet someone under unsual circumstances, and then time after time lose the sense of smell, of taste, of listening and of light..?


It is though possible to love a person even if the enviroment is not ideal.


The biggest of all mistakes is to consider some conditions of human connection stable and given.


//Sections//


1.smell
(to smell the sweat of the other one's body during intercourse, to smell his neck when he hugs you, to smell the hair when he's laying there sleeping like the world has stopped for a moment)


2.taste
(to taste the perfume on his body when you lick his skin, to taste the tongue after he just had a spicy dish, to taste his lips when they chill, to taste his body when he gets wet in the shower)


3.listen
(to listen his eternal monologues about his life theories, to listen his voice in the early morning saying "hey", to listen to his angry temper with his eyebrows really stretched and the first thing you think of doing is kiss him with passion)


4.see
(seeing him making himself ridiculous in front of you, seeing your reflection though his dark eyes, seeing him watch you as if it is the first time he ever meets you, seeing him cloud like a baby just because he realises he's done something wrong, seeing him..)


You are always afraid if any of those moments you experienced were actually real.. that depends on both persons having a connection, if both of them act real in it.


The disappointment here is not to be able to feel any of those senses again, even though they once felt so real.


After all, i came up with the conclusion that we do feel things, and share emotions, and capture pictures of life together, and all of them never really fade away cause they have been saved in our emotional disk memory and the heart hardly ever forgets all the important senses it has been offered through time. i do regret nothing, i do forget nothing.. but i do believe in something, that we "once" felt and sensed.. 



because that is how life goes on
like that.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUXAl7UkIgU&feature=related

all the previously mentioned reveal my inner state due to "perfect sense", a film by David Mackenzie (2011)

Darkly dreaming Dexter

CHAPTER 7

THIS BODY IS STRETCHED OUT JUST THE WAY I LIKE it. 

The arms and legs are secure and the mouth is stopped with duct tape so there will be no noise and no spill into my work area. And my hand

feels so steady with the knife that I am quite sure this will be a good one, very satisfying—

Except it's not a knife, it's some kind of—

Except it's not my hand. Even though my hand is moving with this hand, it's not mine that holds the blade. 

And the room really is sort of small, it's so narrow, which makes sense because it's—what?

And now here I am floating above this perfect tight work space and its tantalizing body and for the first time I feel the cold blowing around me and even through me somehow. And if I could only feel my teeth I am quite sure they would chatter. And my hand in perfect unison with that other hand goes

up and arches back for a perfect cut—

And of course I wake up in my apartment. Standing somehow by the front door, completely naked. Sleepwalking I could understand, but sleep stripping? Really. I stumble back to my little trundle bed.The covers are in a heap on the floor. The air conditioner has kicked the temperature down close to sixty. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, last night, feeling a little estranged from it all after what had happened with Rita. Preposterous, if it had really happened. Dexter, the love bandit, stealing kisses. 

And so I had taken a long hot shower when I got home and shoved the thermostat all the way down as I climbed into bed. I don't pretend to understand why, but in my darker moments I find cold cleansing. 

Not refreshing so much as necessary.

And cold it was. Far too cold now, for coffee and the start of the day amid the last tattered pieces of the dream.

As a rule I don't remember my dreams, and don't attach any importance to them if I do. So it was ridiculous that this one was staying with me.

—floating above this perfect tight work space—my hand in perfect unison with that other hand goes

up and arches back for a perfect cut—

I've read the books. Perhaps because I'll never be one, humans are interesting to me. So I know all the symbolism: Floating is a form of flying, meaning sex. And the knife—

beware of mindscapes

this is my sky.. don't look up

contentment is the enemy of invasion