One night of magic rush

I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.

And it feels like a moment outside of time. Where the only music is the sound of our hearts and the dreams we had.

Dreams made of sun and freshly-picked cherries. Dreams of walking next to her and belonging to someone who lives so very far away.

Now back in London, dreams have turned into wishes. Of the crossed-fingers kind. Just so.
It might be grey and, at times, wet; but deep-inside I know.

That everything is going to be fine. That, somehow, time won’t be counted in seconds but in heartbeats.

So much for the fear of time running-out. At least until the loud noise I’ve come not to hear anymore wakes me up in the morning. The morning of the shortest night of the year.


  1. Lovely post and images Fanny…everything will be fine, I tell myself that to sometimes, and although it may sound trite, it puts a spring in my step!

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