In twenty days, I'll
turn twenty five. Twenty five
years.
Now imagine an ocean,
waves squabbling with the wind
and getting thrown hard on
a rocky shore. Imagine a drop
of one wave landing on the furthest
pebble and vanishing quickly.
That's my twenty five years.
The years through which
I learned to love,
to feel sheer joy,
to kiss lips and fur and souvenirs,
to run down a cliff,
to feel the air filling my lungs,
to laugh with honest happiness
like a child, like a human in love,
to quit, to fail, to cry in bus stops,
in trains, in cafés, at home,
to remember words
and voices and faces,
and to write about everything.
The ocean is you.
I have always been a small
part of you, only I
was the one who got to
crush at the shore.
