silly pretty things & crosses, et vous, et vous !

I would like one room that smells like cinnamon, a job developing film and looking at sentiments, a place to walk to with water and a ghost story about it, some peppermint tea and apples,

maybe a desk and a dog or a spice finch, my old books all stacked in the refridgerator, a bathroom has a portrait of an english setter instead of a mirror above the sink and a wall mapping the constellations, a trapdoor to an attic with a lamp and an accordian

and feathers everywhere on the floor, a collection of different types of moss on the window sills,

crosses in the corners, a tiny bed with big boxes under it, with notebooks and wigs and photographs of strangers in them and

Someoone else who likes fireflies much too much and cold water, someone who has a pillow built in and

we'll leave notes on the threshold for the old women on our street and we will not say a word about it, same with streetlights and forgiving because we know and we can sit in fields and make little things like drawings of characters from strange stories and sing into tapes in the basment to show each other over breakfast

 

and when we die they can dig them up and take down all the jars filled with things that we hung in the trees and they'll wonder about us because we, we snuck out somehow.

 

maren hoopfer 2007