I gave you sunrises, now you give me sunsets. I don’t see them. I always miss them. But sometimes I sneak a glance at the sky and sink into this veil of violet on yellow with bright pink flashes and blue cats chasing blue butterflies. And the wings shimmer with some mysterious mother-of-pearl. And this lilac seems to smell – a fragrance you can’t forget.
To fly into the sky, forget about everything in the world, about the steering wheel of this car I’m driving, about the road I’m on, about the fact that there’s asphalt and concrete in the world, about the existence of water and stars. To immerse oneself in this fabric – a transparent material of colors, a random watercolor of today’s celebration. Fickle. It lives in moments. Like the scent of my perfume. Melts under the weight of the night. And here are the stars, from which there’s no escape. And the moon, with its round silvery lid, looks at you and me – so far apart and different. As if they were two different moons altogether.
And then the night wraps me in a hot blue blanket and warms me until morning, when I get up again to wake up or fall asleep until the next sunset. And once again, I sink into the dense watercolor that you dream of.
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