Ingenting

Eg kjenner meg som Scarlett i dag. Aleine. Lost. Alien. Alienated, til og med. Plutseleg bevisst kor annleis alt er. Kor framandt. Som kulissar, kor eg bare gar rundt og undrar meg. Eit tempel her, eit alter der, endelause rekker butikkar kor dei sel alt anna enn det dei sel heime. Litt melankolsk.

Som filmen. Everyone wants to be found.

It was fun for a while
There was no way of knowing
Like a dream in the night
Who can say where we´re going
No care in the world
And maybe I´m learning
Why the sea on the tide
It has no way of turning

More than this
You know there is nothing
Oh more than this
You tell me one thing
More than this
There is nothing
Nothing

Ingenting indeed. Kanskje like greitt. Det er uansett snart pa tide a venda heim igjen.