Roar in the Afterglow

I traveled back to the countryside and coastline to get some fresh air, to this village like city that I lived in before I lived here. I walked along the city walls, felt the warmth from the Cathedral chimney. I for-filled my own wish to get a mystery book covered in wrapping paper, with a message stating what I`m searching, now and maybe still later. I had some cream tea with the window towards the tower and then ended up in the pub where and old man sat next to the open fire. After some much needed steak ale pie, I moved the flowers on the table a bit to the side, I opened the wrapping and found the title inside, Time for a Change, and ones again it came right on time. So I sat there with the book in my hand, sometimes people watching, there were locals coming in, a dog jumping towards me, jokes at the bar and a two men, one old and one young, trying to get the jukebox to play something. The young mans eyes met mine, I looked at him, we both smiled, then he met a girl, so I though

I wanted to write a little about the struggle of giving things time, when taking time to know them and end up pushing them aside. When you believe you shouldn't start before you truly know you like them exactly as they are. As time passes by you might find your feeling for them grow only to realize you missed the boat some time ago. The might have meet someone else while you chose to take it slow.  You might find yourself giving them insight on how you wish things would be,  how the right person would sweep you of your feet,  and actually end up feeling like you given them advice,on how to make an impression on someone else they find nice.   I guess there are those who are ready faster than me. From time to time you wish you could go back to tell your feelings sooner then they appeared,  but that is not possible and after all being friends is what you need,  And yes you care for them so you wish them to grow for however their life turns out to be.

Idag förlorade jag en trogen vänn, jag tänkte hur jag skulle fortsätta här, men då tårarna rinner är det ganska svårt att planera vart orden bär. Dethär kommer på känsla, allt du betyt för mig. Du var där när man slog upp dörren, man visste att någon väntar. Du ville säga Hej, Glada språng och skutt, att rulla runt av iver var för dig det sättet du talade till oss. Det var som om Kaikki on kotona kunde höras genom dina skutt. Ja tror att du har det bra där du är nu, ingen ska behöva lida och inte heller du.  Då man fälde tårar fanns du alltid där, en kram räckte långt och för en stund vart det som om du tog bort alla besvär. Aldrig sade du något, bara en lugnande blick ett underbart varmt hjärta ofta följt av slick. Varför gråter du vännen, du är bra som du är, låt mig ta bort allt det tunga som du bär.  Att aldrig mer se dig i skogen eller ropa dig tillbaka från vägens andra ända, att aldig mer se dig hoppa in i bilen varifrån du intensivt följde med vad som ska hända, att al

Ever felt like the city you live in is filled with old heartbreaks around corners, mistakes and embarrassing incidents? That no matter where you go, they always haunt you (well.. I mean you could always leave the city.. but why let these things win ?) making you feel like a misfit walking along those streets. More often then we would have hoped, we go through or lives meeting guys who turn our head around, sometimes for a longer while and sometimes for one really good evening, and sometimes before you even came to this city, making us feel so good and confident, hoping that at some point there would be some more, but sooner then later they just leave us with short one-liners making us feel like they find us about as interesting as a potato (no offense to potatoes). We analyse, try to resolve to gain some clearance and in the process of that end up feeling like we just did a freak show (seriously, no matter what we do). Every place reminds us of something, where it happened (good and