i thought there would be more to say. where have my words gone? i thought, so much space and then, so much space to write in – of course the words will come. for me there has always been an abundance of words. but now, when i want to, when i think so much to fill, everything here leaves me charged, i can’t think of what to say. and maybe it Is because all i can think lately is that everything comes down to the story that people want to tell. as in, this sea is just something i have created, this love, this body, all stories i am piecing together. as in, maybe the sea doesn’t exist like that, as in maybe the people who live here do not ever think: so much space. it makes me feel like what matters then. why talk? what use? and already i don’t talk that much, just recycle air. somehow it seems there is both always more and less to say and it depends, i guess, on the day to pick which side i am standing on.