With You | Without You


"Is the only reason you're holding me tonight 'cos we are scared to be lonely?"

 (thanks, Lupa)

Sitting here, in the grey arm chair in my living room, in search of inspiration. With a glass of wine on the last night of September.

2 new likes on instagram. By real and meaningful people living their life. Instagram feed of Denise and ralfletics picked me up with their gallery. Then...Scrolling further in my feed, there it is / a reminder of how it was with you.

And here yet another post about you featured by the songs of the night "quoted" and bracketed). I guess I am not fully over our relationship and the break up. There is it, I cannot let go. Easily. At least I am being honest to myself and you, my reader, to speak the truth.


With you. All started off unexpected and "like a wild fire" (thank you, Ellie).

With you everything had a sexual and meaningful touch. I felt so beautiful with you. 

I loved you stories. I hate-loved those about your X's and girls you met | helped - I tried not be to jealous... guess it made me feel at the end of the day, so - for the full pallet of the rainbow - thank you.

I loved how you held my hand. I nowadays notice tiny loving gestures by stranger couples, that they show towards each other - just like a kiss on the top of the nose or holding hands. The scent of you on my palms was sweet, clean and fresh, "hand balm creamy" and "dove-soap'y".

For this dream trip to eastern German castle, thank you too. For all the hot and extravagant excellent dinners and what was after, for the first time, we've got to thank the universe.

With you. I laughed. I loved.


I loved your 32 smile. All selfies look so happy. 

With you. I was emotional. I explored my sexuality. I was on top of the world. In heaven, when we texted and never better, when you visited.

For London, for England I thank myself; for Turner (incl. a picture from the National Gallery) and all the art I thank you. James Bond'y, really.



I had a dream, you were sipping petrol sour neat. To you, to me. To not us. I don't wanna know (thank you, Kygo).


Thank you for teaching me to be stronger. Thank you for NYC without you. For the brisk and sad hugs. And for so many letters we never read or answered.

Lonely together (Rita Ora) is not the best choice, I agree. x and I let go. x