being in love
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Would have been dead a long time ago. Better off dead than alive. I talk about wanting liberation and freedom. BUT do I have the nerve to play the game. When the time comes? What I do know is I dun have the balls. Something is always pulling me back. I duno if there really is sth.
Thursday, August 11, 2011. It has been a while. Based on the last post, it has been close to 3 years now. We spoke endlessly about the various mischiefs that we got into, and poked fun at our relationship disasters. We reminisce about the good old days and relieved it thru the stories we re-told, picking up bits and pieces of tears and laughters that we shared.
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Friday, June 06, 2008. A small izakaya near Nijitta Temple. I love the architecture. Castle tower in Nijitta temple. Tea house in Nagoya Castle. Mini fountain outside train station of Nagoya Castle. Sleepycat on the bench of a outdoor rest area in Nagoya Castle. City hall of Nagoya. Tuesday, May 27, 2008. I want to smile again. I miss my trip to San Francisco. Its a matter of choice. Maybe I just need a big cup of sugarcane anyway that glass is bigger than my face in real life. Bless me with strength.CONTENT
This web page lauyapok.blogspot.com states the following, "Friday, June 06, 2008." We saw that the webpage said " A small izakaya near Nijitta Temple." It also said " Castle tower in Nijitta temple. Tea house in Nagoya Castle. Mini fountain outside train station of Nagoya Castle. Sleepycat on the bench of a outdoor rest area in Nagoya Castle. Tuesday, May 27, 2008. I want to smile again. I miss my trip to San Francisco. Its a matter of choice. Maybe I just need a big cup of sugarcane anyway that glass is bigger than my face in real life."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
I throw all of your stuff away. I tear you out of my heart. And ignore all your messages. I tell everyone we are through. Every time you come around. Should have known better in trying to let you go.
Milk poet - a love ode; an artists space. Sunday, 6th June 2010.
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با مداد رنگي هايم روز آمدنت را نقاشي مي كنم. و جاده هاي رفتنت را خط خطي. و زير روزهاي اشتباهم خط بكش. بودنت مثل دريايي مرا دربر مي گيرد. و كدامين چمدان از آن توست. بيا كه اجاق سرد دلم را فقط تو مي فهمي. نمي دانم آخرين واژه هاي كلامم چه خواهد بود. نمي دانم آخرين برگ دفترم چه رنگي خواهد شد. چرا كه مي ترسم ديگر بديدارم نيايي. آيا در پي ما يادي از دلها خواهد گذشت. آيا غمي برجاي ما در سايه خواهد نشست. و صداقت گل نايابي است.