reflecting upon

cleaning out my closet... throwing out the skeletons and the ancient memory dust. words are magic. voice is opium for the love-starved soul. words, that we rearange after in our perception, to suit us better and our longings. for whatever it is. sometimes we rationalize. sometimes we need a friend to talk to. sometimes we need to ditch a friend. but sometimes we really need to find some old micro-tapes , walk a bit through memory lane and see the truth from far away. see it after years have gone by. if i knew then what i know now, i would't be sitting here writing this. or..would i? nah... i would be running away for real. not like those short one-two days run-aways. but...how could've i? it still sounds great. sans fleur...
"repetitio est matter studiorum" they say (who are they anyway?); and i'd add -"repetitio est matter taedium". agree, no? watch the "bitter moon" for pelister's sake! it is bitter, damn right it is! also, i should mention that i can't stand it when people are using more than one exspression mark. seems a bit exasperating. what was my point? oh, yeah..
this one goes to sandman, the one who always wanted to chain me by setting me free.