Fresh Air From The Age

“I see a harbor filled with masts and sails, wearied by the sea wind that wearies me.”

So, who’s to say what lost is.

Surely not me. Lost in the nights, lost in the days. When am I not? Am I? Fuck knows. I ran into some old music and its got me nostalgic. For what I dunno. Fuck it. Birthdays all around. 18– Nov, 29.

Im enjoying the moments anyway. The lost time seems irreplaceable– ill make it up. Unknown places and faces dont necessarily mean lost. It means new. Today was a morning just like any other. How beautiful is that? The day will come when Ill realize my morning have changed– afternoons, nights. Cant do much now cept enjoy it.


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