I'm only sleeping (take 1)

If time is a vessel,

then learning to love

might be my way back to sea

The flying, the medal,

the turning above

These are just ways to be seen

We all get paid

Yeah some get faith before they die

But the stars we will navigate

Through the holes in your eyes




Fantastic lyrics, ain't they? From a fantastic song, 'Public pervert' by Interpol, a lovely way to start this post, i believe...

It is strange how days look like raindrops, falling from the sky and hitting the ground, so quickly you barely notice them... that's how my days come and leave, quite abandoning my life the very same as it was the day before! Same mornings, same living, same people, faces,dreams... Mondays are the ones during which I wish Fridays (and weekends) come, when my friends and I meet and start having a bit of action and overturn our rutines, having fun and doing crazy things!


Once upon a time (a few months ago actually), my friends and I discovered a big terrace on the rooftop of a small and old department store in the shopping percinct of the town we live in, with which we immediately fell in love. The only means to lead us up there was a stairway, which some mysterious person had it locked after midnight, and a quite broken down lift. The problem with it was that whichever button we pressed, in order to get to the floor leading to the terrace, made the lift shaky and automatically any lights it had went off until its 'lift-off'. It was really scary at times, as we thought it would break down the very moment we reach our destination, getting trapped in it, with nobody to free us. Of course,we used the lift.


We also needed to climb another stairway to get to the terrace. On the top of it there was a door as well, which was never locked. So, every Friday we spent our nights up there, doing nothing but laying on newspapers we placed on the floor in order not to get dirty, gazing at the stars and the passing-by clouds, the moon, having music, eating, drinking our beers, getting cold, talking and most of all dreaming. But most of the time we remained silent looking up the sky and getting lost around the space... We had a kind of freedom up there, we could reach the sky. We called it 'The Grand Hotel', out of a song we love, and we also called it 'our home'. We decided never to let other people rather than our beloved ones know about it, it felt like it was our own place...


Once a friend of mine and me decided to write a line of a poem on one of the walls, making our 'Grand Hotel' look more familiar to us. We also made a graffiti, in the memory of a young boy who's been killed on the 6 of December by a police officer (subject that caused a great uprising of people from all ages here, especially students). Maybe that was the reason our terrace was closed...


Some Fridays later, we found the terrace's door locked, we thought it was because of the graffiti and hoped it would be opened again, some time later. But it didn't, it's still closed, and somehow the lift broke down completely, having captured many of our most precious moments in it...Since then we've never had the chance to visit the terrace again. We even discovered new ones, but none was like the Grand Hotel...



Quite a long story, isn't it..?I hope it doesn't seem a rediculously melodramatic story the way I wrote it, it's just a part of me I couldn't express in any other way..

(the way it felt to me being up there!)



How many days will it take to land

How many ways to reach abandon?

Oh, you and I

So swoon baby starry nights

May our bodies remain

As weak we move,

I'll feed you light, baby

May our bodies remain

Oh yeah in history,

I'll treat you right, baby

I'm honest that way, hey

Swoon baby starry nights

May our bodies remain