365 days, 365 steps.
smashingly candid, foraging for candies.
words don’t mean anything,
when we relive the euphoria.
as we take to the streets, they chase us down.
but they will not beat us down.
we have youth in our blood,
we float high on cloud nine.
bohemianly dressed, they captured us.
in pictures. in frames.
we poured our love in caskets,
ammunitions waited alongside.
but it started to rain –
and we no longer needed to fire away.
stretched into its final chapter,
we clung on to our bus seats, stuck with headphones,
unwilling to unplug.
a city of spy cakes, rickety waiters and sarcastic undertones,
echoed a ricochet of applause.
for we fell utterly in love with its complexity.
i miss you. i dig you, you on the other side.
simultaneously desiring to return.
upon your gaze.
and be lavished with some central european love.
this is dedicated to those who were there.
who witnessed a bygone era.