I have an affair with a threeword poem, but it's only right side business. I can fly. It's the three little words that I need to see when I open my eyes at 7am to walk my restless body to hell. 
And I hate and love the drawings on my wall. I just like the idea of having art on my wall but . . . I don't know if I can really call that art. Something more . . . crap made with pencils and colors would be a good name for it.

And the blanket on my wall is a reminder of how great grandma I have ♥ She makes the best Chai you can ever imagine, it was such a long time since I saw her but I can remember the taste of her sweet chai. And I remember the tiny bananas growing in her garden. And I remember the little fish in her garden. And I can remember the turquoise walls of the livingroom. And I miss it, the country where I opened my eyes, took my first steps. I miss home.