I often think that if I didn’t dye my hair it would most probably be gray by now.
I try to grab hold of the positive things in the past three weeks and my weekends. That would last and that would take me further and closer to.... something.... or other.
I missed you on the beach with the sand beneath my toes. As the cool breeze tousled my hair I lay on the body board fighting off the mosquitoes and dampness and the longing. For home and everything that comes with it.
In the night, on the beach with the Atlantic singing and the dolphins playing the full Moon swam slowly across the sky.
The day started with the most significant sunrise and a headache – also of a significant kind. Surrounded by a deadly mix of blue skies and white sand and the fishermen and the non-existent coverage area of all the US cellphone networks I fried my body, smelling the ozone.
We all dream of home. Of homecomings, of people that matter. We sit in a circle and unite in the quest for trying to find flavours and scents that would bring back the familiar. That would once and for all be like the real thing.
We are the severed limbs of the Estonian psychic – oh so dramatic...
I believe in the sand beneath my toes,
The beach gives a feeling,
An earthy feeling,
I believe in the faith that grows,
And the four right chords can make me cry,
When I'm with you I feel like I could die.
And that would be all right,
All right
Third Eye Blind
