Love letters from Bohemia

lxv.

In my dream we are lying face to face on the bed, not touching. It is raining outside. The windows are open, the lights are on, I am wearing white. We are both so old. In the dream I think, this could be the future. So I dream up the sound of children outside and a big old house heavy with memories. I try to touch you but I can't move. In the dream I know it is not the future, but the end. I try to say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, but you can't hear me over the sound of the rain.