two wine(sic!)glasses crashing against a bridge of oslo. thrown behind the backs of two stray girls. danced in the almost-first snow of oslo, outside, in the wind, under snowfakes falling into their hair. the only mermaids that were ever able to dance without any pain in their knees. eyes on them. why should they care.
true angels only meet on the edge, and they're not white
glass filled with black rum. bottom up, my dearest friend! and a throw behind you. never to come back.
without the past, not caring about the future, which will come anyway. will we get fired from out workplace tomorrow for our wild latino dances? don't think so. this is what your rules are worth, world.
there were two girls who drank the black rum bottom-up on a norwegian bridge. a snowfall. glass splintering against the street surface. we - the centre of universe, for a second, and the universe acknowledging that. for a second.
having stuck a whole in my skirt-trousers garment. i'm gonna sew it together RED. for everyone to see. THIS GIRL IS RECYCLED and she knows what your religions mean.
everything was meant to be.
fate or coincidence. it's just a matter of perspective.
and after roof toasts, after a wild pirate ride in a broken apocalyptic lift, after a gift of heart - a fortune-telling from one of the books of our lives, translated simultaneously:
when there was a time he could come down, much further, the corner was a corner as almost always in The City, gates and arcades disappeared in the distance, and in the background there was beginning of a commerce city with its towers and with the flash
and then she's abandoned the book and forgot the page number. the future obscure. the glass left behind, never looked back at. drunk in the middle of the road, with car-lights coming closer. where does their courage spring from?
tread in, girls.
whoever you think you are.
there is a one to see you.
to remember a teaching without remembering the lesson.
no, it didn't look that nicely.
and after roof toasts, after a wild pirate ride in a broken apocalyptic lift, after a gift of heart - a fortune-telling from one of the books of our lives, translated simultaneously:
when there was a time he could come down, much further, the corner was a corner as almost always in The City, gates and arcades disappeared in the distance, and in the background there was beginning of a commerce city with its towers and with the flash
and then she's abandoned the book and forgot the page number. the future obscure. the glass left behind, never looked back at. drunk in the middle of the road, with car-lights coming closer. where does their courage spring from?
tread in, girls.
whoever you think you are.
there is a one to see you.
to remember a teaching without remembering the lesson.
no, it didn't look that nicely.
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