(via inennui)
I already miss the Pacific Northwest and all it’s colours and smells.
Goodbye Seattle, till we meet again…
Let’s have a jar of crunchy noodles, meanwhile
Sun lights up the day time,
You light up my life.
The hand that calls you forward
is the hand that leaves me behind.
And I stand on the ocean shore ,
like an old black and white movie.
Love is here, love is lost, again tonight.
Hold me, hold me tonight.
Hold me, hold me tonight.
You’ve got a book like this,
to keep me alive.
And if its not a rainy day,
you simply don’t go outside
And you’re tired of everything
all of the girls and the boys,
and if you’re tired of everything
all of your precious toys.
Hold me, hold me tonight
Hold me, hold me goodnight.
Sun lights up the daytime,
you light up my life.
The hand that calls you forward
is the hand, that leaves me behind.
Hold me, hold me tonight.
Hold me, hold me tonight…
Parting in my veins
I saw Brea on Monday, two days after we said our final goodbyes. It was Saturday night, after Palomino’s happy hour dinner with Grace and Julianna. We parted on the corner of 4th and Pine. She hugged me for the last time and told me she was glad to have known me. Then she crossed the road and disappeared down Pine. I walked slowly along 4th toward Westlake tunnel, tearing up for the first time about leaving someone I’ve given abit of my heart away to. It’s difficult like that. Not knowing whether we will ever continue to be friends in the real sense of the word. I don’t think we really ‘clicked’ in the right places, the way jigsaw puzzles fit each other around their rounded jagged edges. Yet I was drawn to her from the outset - her short blond hair, strapover bag with badges, jeans and socks, and the manner in which she spoke and laughed. But most times we spoke haltingly and sometimes awkwardly - filing up the space of silence with words that don’t necessarily matter or dig a deeper bond. I woke up in her teal painted room that one early morning and felt out of place. Like it was something alien to me, an odd feeling of being far away from comfort. Maybe it had something to do with my hangover.
I saw her from afar at Pike Place Market that Monday when I returned for the last time to buy a pair of miniature journal earrings. She was wearing green and had her usual apron on. But I didn’t know how to say goodbye the second time. So I walked away.
It’s finally spring in Seattle but the sakuras are gone…
