all these love letters, my weather outside, my katharina and an i, heaven and autumn turning into winter and dark, pinhole days i read somewhere, endlessly, guitars and bars, this conversation with someone who knows me before i even said hi, coffee talks, my toys my little treasures filling up my life with memories, memories changed, remodeled, hatred and anger ignored coming in waves to blur my mind. it is early morning and i have been awake for awhile, i proposed let's conversate and give it a try but now i, emptied, haven't got much to discuss. therapy in foreign language isn't clearing much my doubts. my looking-mirror and this few square meters room locking up all these love letters i write, my weather inside, my godess with her godess and heaven and autumn turning into summer and parks, pinhole ways i copied from somewhere, endlessly, chords and choirs, my voice in this conversation with someone who believes to know me before i drank up and finished to wave goodbye.