Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Laure of the roof Laure on the ground.



It is the city of lost loves. Me and Laure climb the roof of a building. We watch the grey sky darken and share a cigarette.

Last time we where in Paris we bit each other out of hunger. Today we speak about artists and airports. It should be sad but then we start laughing at exactly the same time and it's really hard to stop.

Love don't disappear, it only transforms. To hate. To sorrow. To something that I don't have the words for yet.