Someone unfolds my thoughts and turns them into a bright future.

The last time I was happy was only this morning. Next to my one foot an open book was engaged in light conversation with the wind. What should be forgotten? Afterwards it was the unrest, the lonely unrest of waking in days torn and quiet. Wind, drag me with you across the plains, drag me all the way down to the cliffs. The water and everything that grows so strangely out of the blue.