The dress. The flowers. The list. Its gone too long.
Burgundy shoes, black laces. Horrible little boots to wear to school.
If Martín was an animal, what would he be?
Cream curtains slightly too short, slightly too creamy, too light.
I wish I could lie on my front. It looks cosy. I'll regret it.
I remember when we were walking up to Uritorco and you said that it would be good to do more hikes.
Stick my feet out of the covers and then tuck them in between his sleeping legs. Crisp and cool.
It's only dinner time in Argentina. I wonder what they are doing.
I want to get up early. No dreams. A clean sleep.
Conditional tenses chain game, write that down tomorrow for last class.
Where is that car going? A hammock in Brazil. A pub bench in Somerset.
Follow a butterfly for a day, watch it live, watch it die. Is it really a day to live or a day to die?
Liver in gravy with mashed potatoes and cabbage, where to hide, not a clean plate.
Walk into Waterstones and see your book.
There was a sandpit, inside and outside. But a mistake was made, and we never went back outside.
Green mists rising from a bus in Colombia. Don't sleep.
Be happy tomorrow. You are happy. Look at this.
If I could take colourful photos, or black and white, sunflowers, Iguassu Falls, giraffes at the watering holes bending carefully.
Sitting on a train, some vodka, Siberian sunsets, a breeze flicking the book's pages.
Will we have separate armchairs when we are older, or we will stay together on a couch. Like we are together in bed. Like we are together, juntos...