I have written you a map. On the bus I wrote a text message for you.

Everything can shift shape, can change, can transform. In the images, my language had become hostile: And only thought of the lines, of the way they resembled, the way they coloured and charmed and I don’t know what. Then someone tried his hand at literary debate. I try to draw your radiant eyes in my sentences.

You say something about the sun. Then the day slowly closed in on our eyes. When I do not see you, I do not see you. This is what my dreams looked like at the time. We thought of giraffes, cheetahs and long since extinct species living in the oceans. Around hesitant stars we came up with names for things. The sand fretted my thoughts, made them round and soft until they disappeared. Your eyes and the sound of rain from the busy roof. In the sunlight we quiver like something resembling precious stone resembling a sparkle from the depths of the Earth.

It was not the forests I came from. Your eyes and the sound of rain from the busy roof.

When I wake up and see you open your eyes. The words, small tops of foam. I sailed between your lips and kissed the meteorites glittering down through the atmosphere. Figs on the ground. To transform this room into another.

We were still, we were still quivering, quivering down to the smallest details.

It doesn’t matter. Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun. You, you await a sweet sun. It is always this slow gaze.

The chair I sat on creaked in the sun.

Grey. The intimacy in writing.

My writing is coloured by itself. A shy room, an intimate room.

I wrote letters to you in my thoughts and followed the movements of the road along the coast and the sea, hesitatingly. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. Reading for nothingness. You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me look through your eyes. A line threatened to intervene in my thoughts, to seduce my thoughts, terrify my thoughts.

Like reading forgotten newspapers.

Then the day slowly closed in on our eyes. I think you had forgotten that one. The lime.

It is every single rock in my heart, slowly but inevitably turning into stars and sparkling diamonds. The ladder up to the sentence: I was the one who called the police. I try to draw your radiant eyes in my sentences. I listened with my lips, let my lips write faraway countries into your wrists. On the balcony, I sat in the sun following a sentence you had told me while asleep, saw it move inward and disappear in a sparkling diamond.

I sat somewhere quiet in the past, writing and drawing.

Wind, drag me with you across the plains, drag me all the way down to the cliffs. Then I saw the third night in the stillness, in the distance. I wrote nothing down in that period. The sand.

In the night a distant voice had nearly fallen asleep. Behind the trees.

The coffee I am drinking is mild in its taste. Your diamonds shine from my mouth. Can I be in this landscape?

Sentences whispered through the laundry and dropped a few caresses on my skin.

Out in the brightness of day, I found a handful of glittering, glittering diamonds. I love to wake up and see you wake up. All around I could only pull myself together to read a few random lines.

The coal. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details. From the coolest gadgets we find a way to kill boredom. On a screen. Black. I walked in the wildest drone while the sky’s funk tugged at my clothes until night took over. I lay in the darkness and turned my thoughts on so they could see through the quiet. In the day we write old books, and every time we breathe out, others breathe in.

Afterwards I spent hours reading. The serene sky. And we. As if someone had written, blindly, on their own memories. The shadows shadowed. I love to wake up and see you wake up. I read your lines. It is always this slow gaze. I get the day going, writing quietly. Are you on the other side of the sea?

Something was dull (was dull) between my fingers. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. If I had met you earlier, I would also have followed your gaze.