A purple sunday.

I buy tulips.
And is freezing the hole day. Drinking green tea.
A ritual, that was created in Scotland, when the rat made me run out in evening of Edinburgh to a friend.
I want to swim away in black water of rurally darkness, that one’s was.
Like the moment when we where walking on the path.
The three of us.
Maybe it was in that moment, life was enough. Right then!
So many shells that died, that are feet broke, in the night.
I did not see them , but I heard the brake.
Then we where close.
There is nowhere to go, except in to the darkness.
And it is so black, that it is warm. That is how I like it!
As blacker as deeper do we get in to are self.

Or is it when I do a life drawing. Or a little color.
A little blue or orange feeling, that just a across.
Right now I do not know, right now I can’t find.

The tulips are in a was in my room and I wonder, what is wrong?
What make me buy them.