Maps for Lost Letters

There is a compass.
Where is it, though?

Never mind.
Just hurry on.

A deep sigh.  – (There still isn’t enough air.)
An empty look.  -  (What is this supposed to be?)

Follow the lines on your palm and you will get there.

Where?

Where, indeed..

There is also a labyrinth. And pretty scratches on a paper. Shapes that are supposed to mean something. Old sticks and buried words. Vintage laughter, worn-out bags, the sound of still air.
There are a lot of things.

I hear someone knocking on the door.
But let’s just leave it.

Something green. A dustbin full of crumpled tissues. The ticking of a wristwatch. Long intervals between two nothings. Some unfinished speculations. A new name. Another knock on another door.
Yes, there are in fact a lot of things.

We’ve been there before. But let’s go there again.

When?

When, indeed..