At Montparnasse, two years ago almost to the minute, I received a phone call that shattered my world and the hope for my mother’s recovery.
It was over and she had gone, leaving a gaping hole that still today, has not been filled or fully realised.
There are still times where I wonder how she did things and tell myself that I should ask her, only to realise in the same instant that I can never ask her anything that I’ll receive an answer I understand.
I miss my mum.
There is sweetness in his kiss like none else I’ve ever had. In the deepest, darkest corners of my soul, a thirst awakes that nothing can slake. How blinding the bonds we set for ourselves and how sweet the release from them.
In the comforting darkness, my heart sees what my eyes cannot.
Twenty-five thousand and two hundred later, a cloud of questions flies. I watch the planes cutting through the cloudless sky and count the moments until I too will fly.
Author’s note: Will the asshole who stole my creativity come back? I write nothing but shite these days. kthxbye.
Yup, almost forgot to commemorate this:
Nullsphere is 4 years old (well on the 13th it was).
Went through a few changes… And if I can find the archives, I’ll upload the 2001 posts… That’ll make it nearly 6 years old!
As I walked in the door tonight, the phone rang and I went to pick up, thinking it was Exar, as it often is. It was the family lawyer, who has been taking care of our case for the past 7 years in Us vs. Neighbours-upstairs.
Perhaps it would be clearer if I explained the whole situation from the start.
A Braille map of Milan
My new Sithy pair of gloves
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