cuba libre

i hollered into my phone again, for the umpteenth time, in that foreign language, at a random bus stop, in front of random strangers

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i love living in london, i really do. freedom is addictive. fashion is only a means to an end - but what a means! paella unfinished should have been conserved for later

but life isn't just made of non-sequiturs. and so onward the flow, the blast from the past, but actually i just want to be blasé du passé


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i cry sometimes walking around my own place
wondering why she cries sometimes
talking about her own place
somewhere around the mountains
no one could dry her fountain
till she got tired to complain
that's when i fly to the wildland, to your land

- "to all of you"_syd matters


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