Sunday, 25 July 2010
Nowadays I spend a lot of time in my room, sitting there, doing nothing. I stare into space. If I lie down on my bed, I can look up through the window and see birds in the white sky, two or three or seven. The brightness gives me a headache and sometimes I think that I need to sleep. I like to look at the things that I own; I like my bookcases and records and stacks of magazines. I like the diaries on my bedside table that I forget to write in. Sometimes tears come to my eyes and I do not know why. Sometimes I light candles and turn off all the lamps and lay on my bed in the flickering darkness, until I open my eyes and stand up and blow out the candles, just because I like the smell of the smoke.