la vie en rose.

lyrics.

four different songlyrics on love.

 

 

Lay with me, I'll lay with you
we'll do the things that lovers do
put the stars in our eyes
and with heart shaped bruises
and late night kisses
devine
 

Oi Lienda
Bella que fa?
Bonita, bonita que tal?
But belle
Je ne comprends pas francais
So you'll have to speak to me
Some other way

 

I'm through with love
I'll never fall again.
Said adieu to love
Don't ever call again.
For I must have you or no one
And so I'm through with love

 

It had to be you
I wandered around
And finally found
Somebody who
Could make me be true
Could make me be blue.
Or even be glad
Just to be sad
Thinking of you

 

my love for love and paris.

plastic flowers and gazpacho

I was sitting on a chair in the incredibly messy apartment of mine, looking out of the big window. There out of the (literally) the blue an airplane passed by - I wonder where its going, I wish i am on it i thought rather depressing. I woke up from the daydream by the sound of my stomach indicating hunger. But all I have is two days old gazpacho soup I said out loud even though i am all by myself. Suddenly I felt sad, I looked at my sunflower and found it dying, how come nothing stays lively in my home? From now on i am only buying plastic flowers, they last long, maybe for enternity.

Yepp, just like that (although not in couture)

my hometown

As I walked over the bridge that units the ilands Södermalm and Kungsholmen, the so called Västerbron where the view is a postcard of Stockholm, I got an idea. I stopped and looked, this is my hometown I sighed. That's when I realised that Stockholm and I have no lovestory, we are like the middleaged couple longing for a divorce, and I am already planing of having an affair with an other city. Actually I am already cheating on Stockholm with Paris. Maybe I have become to blind, to many years with the same partner. I guess I am trying to compare Stockholm with my lover, Paris, and I feel dissapointed. Yes, we do have memories and stories yet there is no passion left. I long for one night in Paris, Rio or New York. Strangers and lovers, no commitment, no memories.

Although I will never be able to erase the memories of pink shimmering palettes in the june sky, long walks in the old town, the view of Skinnarviksberget, taste of swedish strawberries, the first day of snow and the big window in my apartment with evening sun or the fact that I have spent my life here. Maybe I should take Stockholm for what it is, and not try to compare it. Stockholm, is my past, my highschool lover and foremost, my hometown, now and forever.