we'll sleep out in the garden. and if it rains, we'll sink into the mud. where it is quiet and much cooler than the house is and there is no clocks or phones to wake us up. because i have learned that nothing is as pressing as the one who is pressing would like you to believe. and i am content to walk a little slower, because there is nowhere that i really need to be.

these are days we dream about when the sunlight paints us gold, and this apartment could not be prettier as we danced up there alone. this tv is old, the color is fucked, do you see the difference in the shades? but the green is still close to green, my love. and i believe that we are the same.

and we'll stay like this, all gold and green; the light collects and projects your heart on a movie screen.

-conor oberst