I’m unable to leave
I buy the tickets
book the hotel
and then I do not take the train.
I’ve been ill
I’ve had to work on the weekend
I’ve been fucked by the faith in some other ways.
There is always an excuse
mine or someone else’s.
Probably it’s just fear:
probably I’m scared to face the highth of the buildings
or those streets, my old sisters.
“Make your memories a dvd”
said a billboard somewhere.
I’ve a date with a memory, but probably I wan’t go.
It’s like “saying no” to a drink with a gorgeus guy when you don’t feel like falling in love with an asshole.
Everything seems like something I miss,
something it’s unforgettable, but hard to remember at the same time,
something like 5 o’clock am.
I know exactly how 7 o’clock pm smells like
the description on the bottle says:
If you dare you can come back, but can’t return.
Ph. Sara Cartelli
© The Eat Culture
