The soul wants neither tea nor coffee. The soul wants a conversation. Coffee is just an occasion ...

Whether this, that gray is the sky in our souls opens heavy wounds ?! Now is the time cursed, which intersection call ... How to become, to push the glass open with coffee and after the blossoming buds to run, to please the sun, to straw to catch and shout in a trance - I love you, love ?! Kites, needles, crocuses with souls glowing still unborn. Craving in the spring heartless money and warm my dreams pre-flight green.