Follow me, into nowhere

23 nov. 2009

the summer could be defined as sunrise. nearly everyday we would escape into a world of nicotine and stars. those stars spoke to me. and you're the one i shared my dream with. it was that sky i needed to sink myself into. for the past year, of orange haziness, i dreamed of feeling small and in awe again. i deeply absorbed the quietness of the early morning, the sound of silence that you grew up with, but i rarely experience. it's amazing how much noise just one car makes on the road a mile away. and how the wind blowing through the trees sounds just like busy the inner-city highways near my apartment. we saw shooting stars one after another after another after another. i tried to keep up with the wishes. nervous with anticipation; we barely knew each other and now we were sharing sleeping bags from the back of your subaru. i made a dent in the hood of your car. every time i think of that i giggle on the inside; sorry. there is a part of you i haven't touched yet. but i suppose those feelings take more time than we had. we drove to clear and open roads, to trespassing hidden locations, to parking garage rooftops, to the base of the mountains, to the edge of town by the refuge, to desolate parking lots and barren laundr-o-mats, to hot tubs belonging to expensive resort hotels. it was fun. it was awkward. it was silent and i was shy. but it was so so beautiful. if anything is certain, we both share that love for the edge of a new day.