Qu'est-ce que tu veux ?

Behind your neighbour's panties with a lace that have been covering your window for two days,
behind the solid wall made of books you will never have time enough to read

behind the sea of abstract terms you won't dare to swim across
(fear death by words!)

there is a world
where stories can yet be told in an untold way
among people having their dinner served on the ruins of a gothic chapel
and pigeons making love with chestnut trees
Another reader trying to fight cancer
with a yellow flower - sign of a secret brotherhood
no caged hedgehog, try dead dogs instead
Can you express all your feelings by just three smileys?

The touch of sunset corresponds with the smell of artificial strawberries

Shall I follow you underground or shall we climb up to the reddish sky?
"je n'avais pas le temps de tout faire"
"Tower" stands for "prison" one clever book has said.
Does it, really? I would feel imprisoned elsewhere.
Having sacrificed too much already, I have to finish it tonight.
Coffee through osmosis? Why not.

Bon soir-bon soir- ça va-comme si, comme sa
Bachelor's degree in exchange for 120 pages of tears, toil and trouble.
Fair offer mademoiselle. But when there's no degree at all?
Pourqoui? Je ne sais pas...
Klídék, she says. Klídék.

The lift is cheating during weight-lifting

as you can see through the looking glass
She wants a bathroom with a tunnel made of mirrors
Maybe when I come there for my lessons it will already be made
I think "I'd rather not."
One way ticket it is.
You can watch from above like Gagarin.
But unlike him, you can't just flutter down.
It takes a lot of stairs to get both feet on the ground again.

There are things between heaven and earth
for example Lucy(without diamonds) who once made Rosalina out of Juliet
a second of understanding glimpses - ex loves of Romeo's
do not forget about flowers
at the doorstep.

Must you always be running? (Strange, that's what people usually say to me)
Can't you see how much I need to feel not to be left behind? Just once...
Had I but world enough, and time.
There are still heights left to be climbed, piles and piles of books towering to create my prison.
And you, dear prince charming, can't save me now, as I have cut my hair and the stairs are gone.

And therefore you can't accompany me, pain or no pain.
ég gaf ykkur von sem varð að vonbrigðum..
The journalists were right-the worse the weather the wiser the nation...

Icelanders do not produce only tons of tins of tuna meat.

Et moi?
Je ne sais pas ce que je veux, mais je sais ce que je ne veux pas. Cert Certain.
At least that's a good beginning, Alex the Macedonian Sun would have said.
To which Björk would add through your lips:
þetta er ágætis byrjun.

*
dismissed