Phantasmagorien
Saturday, 9. March 2013
Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted. (John Lennon)
Dear Afternoon,

where art though gone? How did it get this late? I am convinced I did not wake that many hours ago. A quick look upon my clock confirms it is past 5 pm.

Today is a gray day. Not in my mind, but outside my window. This is because I cannot see through my window since a fluffy layer of snow is blocking all view and most of the light. I think it was six days ago when I had the window open for an hour, roughly at the same time of day, and the sun had shone upon my face and I could feel its warmth. Now there is snow. Spring is playing its annual game, teasing us with mildness and tickling sun-rays, and mocking us with wet snowflakes and gray skies.

I feel lazy. It is such a luxury to feel lazy and be able to act on it. Lazy, lazy, all day lazy, which is only possible on a Saturday afternoon, day one of two great days called weekend. It makes me smile to not do anything and be deliberately lazy, knowing and keeping myself aware of the fact that I am allowed to be lazy today.


Lazy Saturday Afternoon

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Wednesday, 12. December 2012
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling. (Oscar Wilde)
Dear Internet,

this is my very first blog post ever. This certainly does not mean much to you, but we will see how this works out between us.

Beginnings can be hard. It is a bit strange to be sitting in front of a white page without words to type. Suddenly all there is to say seems weirdly redundant. All my feelings turn into insignificant notions. My head is empty.

I must try again some other day.

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