i would rather
sit in a restaurant. by wooden tables painted balck, with paint chipping. watching a little bird trying to steal crumbs from the tortilla chips we threw at him a little while ago. i would be drinking wine that would be clean yellowish and transparent and a nice cool in a humid summer night. i'd draw little hearts and smiley faces on the sweat that the cold wine leaves on the glass and tell myself that those stupid pictures i've drawn look cliche and cheap. then i'd look through the glass to see what the world looks like through the wine glass.
sit on a big stone and watch the waves crashing on the shore while you are taking a little rest from our walk because you have a headache from the whiskey you overdid last night. we don't have to speak. we don't have to touch. just feeling you near is enough. there is certain roughness in the Baltic. it feels very north. the sky is grey with lots of couds threatening a storm, the wind is wild and carries the smell of dead seaweeds that are rotting on the shore. there is no girliness, no cutness, no sweetness about the Baltic. but it is elegant. like an older woman with gray hair who wears silver jewelery and black clothes, her hair is in a bun and she doesn't wear any make up but there is so much beauty in her face. that's what it reminds me of. its beauty is not obvious - you have to search for it. but once you see it, it's not cheap or overdone. it is deep and you find more when you look. it's like a song you didn't think much of the first time you heard it, but then realized how good it is and never grew tired of it. it inspires.