a real sense of aesthetics and beauty and adventure, real romance, like the winter sun filtering out all that's foul in the air; wild bike rides through the beautiful city nights, through the lights, flashing in the mind with joy and ecstasy, smiles and the good life, i miss you all. all parts of time have strange parts to them, and they don't always fit together, and i find myself in the middle of those crossroads scratching my head, wondering where to hitch the next ride to. sunny sundays are calm but deceiving, the winter is so beautiful and there's so many little cosy feels to look forward to (the past recycles back into the future), its hard not to feel lonely. but it's quite nice emerging on the other side and seeing that all is mostly still the same, and all is fine (right?), and paris is still beautiful, and amsterdam sometimes cries at night, and the mountains never even cared.