Nothing new, nothing old, but not the same.

I don't know, I really don't. I don't have it concrete infront of me, neither do I know if I want it or not. Maybe these thoughts are best hidden, where no one but me could find them. So we'll have it like that. The outside of me, is fine. But nothing more than fine. I want the snow to melt, or at least the wind stop blowin'. I just want a moment of me - where there's no doubts, no second questioning, but still the feeling of having a way out. Nothing more than me, in a bubble. Like Ray Caesar paintings now...

Dark hidden love

/Anna