It is not the coordinates that matter, yet the way walking on the coordinates. Coordinates are only to plot, to witness the laughs and the sweat that was rarely appear. To bring you to another coordinates is another thing that was cheering. Remembering all the picking-up and the run to the meeting point, the late that was colorful, the hug in the dark and the walk side by side while gazing, whispering not want to let go. As if there had been a bomb that was ready to be exploded, we kept walking though, even with the bad sharp-edged thing ready to attack us, round around around us. The cold silent night, waiting, gazing, hugging, talking, kissing, riding together, mid night talk, I am missing them all.... Not the coordinates that matter, yet who you are with on the coordinates, I miss the one on those coordinates.

Late night, feeding ourselves, eating while gazing; no stop looking at the one you are with, on our own coordinates that were not defined by anybody, that nobody could ever find. Then, the minus became plus, the one became two, the two became three. That was the way to walk on the coordinates which was hard to find, yet we did and we did walked upon it. Do not ever want to let go.

Promising to create a world of our own, the world with some definition that we create, not interfered by common thing in the world that people walk upon (harmful way). Harmful not dangerous, who said so? Now the look in the eyes that trembles. When it started from the nail, the forehead and the look and the sad stories that were told, that being poor is nobody’s dream, that being alone is nobody’s will, that being “small in the bigs” is not normal and is being avoided by everybody. The coordinates may matter in this thing: that expression is not the same in any place that you visit. Bad look, good gaze, sympathy are things that have to be prepared. Crushed, of course, is there anytime, need some good basic installation things that can not be sticked to everybody’s mind. Then, let go oneself is the answer, to find the identity that is there but not found. No meaning to go permanently, just to take the lost identification, then come back (for short time) to again start the next wandering.

There was an event in that coordinates when the closing of the head should be opened. Walking in the small road, dark and nobody’s passing by, to reach the sun through the window, to laugh or just to see far there from the eyes. Drinking while being worry of not connected: thus had to go back with the closing of the head, being connected with you and the house of the sipirt was reached. Ending up the days with confusion, with a hope for tomorrow, with a spirit to run the night, with you over there, far in the ear, near by the very soul.

Morning eyes withness the beauty of (artificial) nature, walk in later realized to be an (artificial) way.


To the soul I am separated from,
Yellow table, 08:14 PM: I dont mind being on any coordinates (not mine)!