Because you were afraid that it is the end.
Because you don’t want to be only a cross in a cemetery.
You, voice of “Tele-Enciclopedia”, lulling my childhood with calm, articulate knowledge.
You, playful strong voice of “Hei joben”.
I will remember you.
Your name is Florian Pittis.
Hair of gold and age ending in teen. Things come to me without differentiation. Pearly nail polish, cigarettes, homecoming dance dress stained with things he did to me on the playground, love, slippers, cake, white underwear drying in the bathroom, rock records, school uniform, elm tree in front of my window, my sister’s head as lovely weight on my bare thigh, sun and grass and picnic baskets, bracelets to cover the bandages on my wrists, paper stars, windows open to jump from or receive the sun of a new day.
“I’m a high school lover, and you’re my favourite flavour
Love is all, all my soul
You’re my playground love
Yet my hands are shaking
I feel my body reeling, time’s no matter, I’m on fire
On the playground, love.
Youre the piece of gold the flushes all my soul.
Extra time, on the ground.
You’re my playground love.
Anytime, anyway,
You’re my playground love.” – Air, Playground love (OST The Virgin Suicides)
