february starts with arms full of warm nostalgia. I feel safe, I feel back home inside!
one of my hyacinths has flourished and looking down I watch the birds in the lemon trees. the silence in the mornings, the old roads my steps know so well. the traces I left in them like written parts of a diary. I open it and flick through the pages! the old houses still standing and I can almost listen to the voices whispering in my memories.
today I spent sometime following a flock of birds in the blank sky ... in slow motion! and listened
voices heard in fields of green
their joy their calm and luxury
are lost within the wanderings of my mind
i'm cutting branches from the trees
shaped by years of memories
to exorcise their ghosts from inside of me
the sound of waves in a pool of water
i'm drowning in my nostalgia
david sylvian . nostalgia . brilliant trees . 1984
note to myself ... clean windows after unpacking all those piles of boxes