Today it's been 1 year since I wrote the first verse of LETTERS, on an early plane from Paris. (The second verse I wrote 4-5 months later. Second letter.) . "Leaving new side of new bed in dawn like a ghost A black cab and I am gone Like I never came, like we didn't make each other come again and again
This is the perfect piece of reality imagination could never create Dirty hair, body smell Bruises on my sensitive skin I feel beautiful Eyes sharp and black" .