these are the things of now.

Dear mosquitoes,

Please stop eating my face. Thank you.

In beaches and woods there are no clocks so really my day could be three hours long. Breakfast, beach, evening meal, bed. Is this really all there is to life? It seems so.

Writing things down, trying to separate something from the flow and immortalise it doesn´t seem to have meaning for me at the moment. Just trust that I am having a good time. The best in fact.

I have changed colour. I have changed shape. I have changed my clothes. But I think you would recognise me from the light shining out of my face (even the bits with mosquito lumps). I am myself and I have transended myself.

I told myself I would write for 5 minutes. That 5 minutes is over now.