Stockholm Södra

I make it as far as the commuter train platform before the Everything catches up with me. All these lives, all this distance, how the world is one but a thousand and how once you've been torn into too many pieces you never can be put back together again. I wonder if there was a time when I felt whole, but the question seems irrelevant now, what does it matter? I stand in tatters on train platforms, crying silent tears into ancient pillars underneath an island where I once lived and think only how in New York they let you cry in public without feeling bad and I think everyone deserves a place like that. I am homeless forever, but isn't it like losing a limb, losing a love, eventually you have to go on because what other option is there, eventually you have to build yourself a life on top of your own ashes and nobody else can do it for you. The pain of separation only lies in too much love, the pain that keeps you constantly on the move only tears you apart because you were given more than your share of blessings, you lucky, lucky girl. How dare you cry on train platforms, how dare you ask the Universe for anything other than exactly this which you have been given, the chance to keep the whole world in your pocket, as they keep you in their hearts. I am homeless forever.

But if that is all, maybe now you dry your tears.
If that is all, maybe now you step up on the ashes and get to work.