i am one half german, one quarter danish, one quarter scottish, and a little bit of an orphan.
i have no more patience to give you. i miss that shivering girl, draped in men's coats, swaddled and trailing like lazarus floating from his tomb. that girl fit in your pocket, pale and velvet like moss. a moth's wing, powdered and worn around the edges. she fit into anyone's pocket.
she could never have been a standard, she was no one's flag. she collected handkerchiefs, but she was born to be a banner. i'll make them stand tall.
all those crisp little spines.
the christmas orphan, marching, marching, flying.
goodbye, new york,
wonder city.
weinacht is mein lieblingsfeiertag.
i just can't fathom who you would have in store for me.
i have no more patience for these little words; bring out the thunder and let's celebrate. enough bark, where's your bite? try me. give me a shovel; i'll unearth some kindred spirits.
