(inspired By Gunnar Ekeløf).

told to a stranger not words but a look or a rare movement the second the fire caught the dry tobacco (in the now newly lit and then long longed cigarette) who you are I can not tell but you are not yours (that much is certain) maybe a magical mix between chemistry and the seconds you are loved and the seconds you are left (written in fluids, scars and smiles) sentences’ or fragments of sentences’ brought into meaning (however meaningless) by you (who are not even yours) not even the cigarette is yours but belongs to nameless urge’s and untold orders (given to your body by the invisible director of your moneys dance from your pocket into his) Lars Eriksen 2005