I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
You can count on me like 123 and I'll be there and I know when I need it, I can count on you like 432 and you'll be there, 'cause that´s what friends are supposed to do!
Wenn einem die 720 Minuten eines zwölfstündigen Tages ohne besonderen Ärger vergehen, so lässt sich von einem Tage unter einem glücklichen Stern sprechen.
