This much...I know...

These pretty empty days, this pretty empty city full of people and one missing...
And these gray skies, even when the sun shines and this wet cigarette that I cannot smoke and these numb hands... it will all pass.
I have that voice calling from the other side and those eyes that are still looking at me, amongst all these people, they still look at me even from afar and amidst the mist. And the thought soothes and I can breathe and feel the warmth, I can keep on my feet and walk.
So without waiting for the rain to stop I will keep walking until I get home.

Dear Vincent,

There is a hole in the wall and I have not been able to fill it up and the winter will soon be here and the snow will come and I fear, for the house will most certainly flood.
Dear Vincent, I've been away and I do not know now for how long I'll stay and even though I would like to, I wouldn't dare to say.

There is a broken window pane and the floor is rotten and the ghost that used to lurk the attic has abandoned us for good.

There's still a garden but the flowers are dead and I'm afraid I will not see them blossom again.

Dear Vincent won't you come? Come to visit before the fall.

Jake Spider's Lullabies

There's that old clock on the shelf to the left of the record player and that mirror with the rusty frame on the opposite wall. There is also the warm smell of wood and something else none of us could recall. There is that long hall we used to walk thinking it would lead us to a different place, one far far away from the one we were when we started, and it often did...
There is the smell of coffee in the morning and boiled milk in the afternoons and those beautiful hands a bit broken and tired.
There is that hat that was too big for us but fitted perfectly on his head and it made him look taller and there is the smile that always came with it.
There is the glint and the masks and the ships floating in the sky as they danced to the music of the violin that came from the other side.
And there is all this because there is no other place it could go. It lies here now blasted and yet intact, faded but tangible and it remains if only for a fraction of a moment if only for us to keep coming back.