Hey, you can be everybody. You can be everything to me. You can be my world, micro, but enough. You can be whole town in few streets – to the shop, to the lake, to the hill with a cross. You can be never-ending party in front yard. You can be third book on the yellow bench.
That place, do I even remember the name? Small village in North North North Scotland, few steps from dreamland of Orkney Islands. Edge of the beauty.
I was couchsurfing there. Cute house near small harbour. I remember talking in the morning sun, lots of flowers, chickens and cats.
Empty village streets. Strong wind. Suprising sun. Further North. Further hapiness.