Virginia

“It’s the beating of my heart.
The way I lie awake, playing with shadows slowly climbing up my wall. The gentle moonlight slipping through my window and the sound of a lonely car somewhere far away, where I long to be too, I think. It’s the way I thought my restless wandering was over, that I’d found whatever I thought I had found, or wanted, or needed, and I started to collect my belongings. Build a home. Safe behind the comfort of these four walls and a closed door.
Because as much as I tried or pretended or imagined myself as a part of all the people out there,
I was still the one locking the door every night.
Turning off the phone and blowing out the candles so no one knew I was home.
’cause I was never really well around the expectations of my personality
and I wanted to keep to myself.
and because I haven’t been very impressed lately.
By people,
or places.
Or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.”
― Charlotte Eriksson, Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving

“It’s a real handicap to have a face with shifty eyes.”
― Kōbō Abe, The Box Man

“It was the hour when snow goes blue
and streetlights come on and a hare may
pause on the tree line as still as a word in a book.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

“The feeling of abandonment overwhelmed me as I realised that no one had waited, or cared where I was.”
― Emily Williams, Letters to Eloise