Passez sur les mots pour les rassembler.
Sur mobile, touchez un passage.
RIGHT UNHAPPY HOUR
Loneliness.
Tolerance.
Chaos.
Immediacy.
Obviousness.
true:
It's you.
It's always you.
Not a second lost,
also it’s you. Dozens of it's-you.
Eruption.
Enduring:
"One time I was dismantling an exhibition, and I was flat on the ground when an artist walked away.
She asked, 'Stranger, how long will your solitude endure?'
I replied, 'Flawless Italian, pure English.'"
Organic:
Devotion is raw.
Encounter.
Surrender.
Singular:
I haven't wasted one.
I held my tongue just to share tap water with someone I barely knew.
---
Everybody can walk into an open clearing.
I wear smooth clothes, leaving no room to hide a thing.
No pockets to stash away the past.
Instead of catching the wrong crowd, this clear space lets the noise scatter into the wind,
making room for only you.
Thousands of it’s-you.
I don't need to devour the sea or consume the impossible;
I am just a spark that gives its light back to the night without trying to swallow it whole.
My bare instinct knows how to let things breathe.
I don't cling to complicated armor.
I don't need to steal peace or tear down walls by forcing intimacy.
I simply step back, leave the space untouched,
and find certainty by letting someone remain entirely free.
Passez sur les mots pour les rassembler.
Sur mobile, touchez un passage.
RIGHT UNHAPPY HOUR
Loneliness.
Tolerance.
Chaos.
Immediacy.
Obviousness.
true:
It's you.
It's always you.
Not a second lost,
also it’s you. Dozens of it's-you.
Eruption.
Enduring:
"One time I was dismantling an exhibition, and I was flat on the ground when an artist walked away.
She asked, 'Stranger, how long will your solitude endure?'
I replied, 'Flawless Italian, pure English.'"
Organic:
Devotion is raw.
Encounter.
Surrender.
Singular:
I haven't wasted one.
I held my tongue just to share tap water with someone I barely knew.
---
Everybody can walk into an open clearing.
I wear smooth clothes, leaving no room to hide a thing.
No pockets to stash away the past.
Instead of catching the wrong crowd, this clear space lets the noise scatter into the wind,
making room for only you.
Thousands of it’s-you.
I don't need to devour the sea or consume the impossible;
I am just a spark that gives its light back to the night without trying to swallow it whole.
My bare instinct knows how to let things breathe.
I don't cling to complicated armor.
I don't need to steal peace or tear down walls by forcing intimacy.
I simply step back, leave the space untouched,
and find certainty by letting someone remain entirely free.