There was a waiting list...And now I wonder how one goes from some random marking on the tube's window to the kitchen.
How familiar is the unfamiliar? The reverse I couldn't answer.
Snacks on the tube, music on the headphones, socializing on the platform of good old New cross or in your cozy common room, appreciating the silence of a calm room, depreciating the lack of atmosphere in public spheres, sinking deep in, reaching far out, thinking of here, feeling it there, thinking of her, of them, of you...
How many, how much? How can I not reverse my life to what is there, not here.
The death of silence, a kind I cannot identify with, the rise of words, only he knows.
What do we have in common?
The clanging of the DLR trains, the guy bending over his neighbour's shoulder to read the metro, the tune of a distant but annoying headphone set, the language you don't understand...
Negativity....Like the longing sound of a bad dream, after which you grab your feet and run down the ten steps to your kitchen, up the ten steps to splash some water in your face.
Negativity... It's like Happiness, Well-being, le bonheur, what everybody's after.
Rythm is about the most you have in common.
Queuing, waiting in a row, running up the stairs, being late for work, getting up early for tea, getting home late to watch a few videos on youtube, falling asleep with the lights on, dreaming about work, your partner, your nasty lecturer, getting up feeling our dreams' imagination has been killed, and so has our memory, making sense of this with the radio, your flatmate, your partner over breakfast, whether your memory functions from the night before or not, whether imagination is a calculable equation...
Anyway, what are our grounds now?
I'm asking this, because I don't want to ground you.
The Romance of the picture, embedded in the cup's writing:
"Rád gondolok" - in Hungarian...
THINKING OF YOU
What am I waiting for?
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