As I lay there and listened, I became afraid of losing you. Your sentences. In mountain ranges across creased sheets?

When I said your name, all I heard was the quiet whisper through the sand. I was in your body, and you?

Nothing is deeper than the skin? We stood there and listened. I think you had forgotten that one. I didn’t give a damn about my own systems, everything was an approach, everything was affectionate.

The most important. Your diamonds shine in my mouth. A shy room, an intimate room. The third is beside. This slow gaze against the stones. We stood there and listened. I no longer have room for the fine hairs on my skin. You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me see through your eyes.

This coincidence: Do we have the same eyes? If I had met you earlier, I would also have followed your gaze. From the smallest details we find, every morning � in the shining light that is bright � our way into the most important scientific truths. It was the forests.

It is like that. I awoke and lay there and saw your breathing follow up on the landscape of the duvets with little tremors and soft, undulating movements. Everything behind everything. We, old thoughts of silence. It was not the forests I came from.

The intimacy in writing. I sailed between your lips and kissed the meteorites glittering down through the atmosphere. Then the day slowly closed in on our eyes.

Your sentences.

Ord. Your eyes and the sound of rain from the busy roof. Nothing should be forgotten. But a part of us remained out there in the empty halls.

Not forget the rivers in the ears. This is what my dreams looked like at the time. Not forget the rivers in the ears. It is the wind blowing tunes through the rushes.

Not forget the rivers in the ears. Not forget the rivers in the ears.

In a different autumn, I would have been embarrassed by sampling. Did I drag you along to the outermost mountains?

That we never really become a part of the world. The worried third is completely beside itself.

In the sunlight we quiver like something resembling precious stone resembling a sparkle from the depths of the Earth. I wrote letters to you in my thoughts and followed the movements of the road along the coast and the sea, hesitatingly.

I sailed across the sea, drifted across the sky. And that sky; was a crazy night. It is the wind blowing tunes through the rushes. Now I am just sailing in version �. When you say my name, my body answers. The northern lights hesitating in our voices. Parts of your dreams fell out between your lips. On a. It is always this slow gaze.

You say something. On the bus I wrote a text message for you.

Then I saw the third night in the stillness, in the distance.

In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details. And down through the skin to the bones, glittering-glittering, and through the bones until darkness merges with marrow. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun. You say something about the sun.

You say something about the sun. Yo

At the time you were still a part of the slow, black beings of the mountains against the desperately fragile silence of the night. In the horizon a white cloud whispered away the smallest details.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? In there behind the forest. Nothing should be forgotten. It is about surface.

Something glittered (glittered) between my fingers.

I could not forget what should be forgotten. That we never really become a part of the world.

Why did you drag me down to the outermost mountains? Sentences are an ocean. It was the forests.

There was nothing. In. It was parts of your dreams that fell out between your lips. What shall we do with the violent sky? On a big piece of white paper. I, hesitatingly.