The view from my window is always the same
Two old beautiful houses
A crack between them
And a harbour
That very harbour with white shirts hoisted
Instead of sails
And your perfume
Instead of air
With broken aquariums and scattered souls
Whose machineries play Pink Floyd
With its no one`s land which is actually mine
With its lighthouse reminding you of my eyes
Or reminding me of yours
That very harbour that stares at me every night
Every October night making me sleepless
That one which I`ll leave some day from and forget all about
That one with the fishermen`s whisper and the cord
slicing the air
As your gaze does
