 For me, if I love someone, I would take them everywhere, the place I stood before. Likewise, I will follow them to those places the always wanted to be.       
   I literally screamed when the flight touched down London, took me back from Morocco, those days thrilled me beyond words could tell of. They asked me how was Morocco, thousand words came out from my mouth trying to get them clicked with my description of how the whole journey was, (caution, I'm still doing it now) yet, I can't find the right words. Yes, this place has soul. But no, beyond that. Yes this place is kind of sacred, but no, I would not choose that word. It is crazy, being in Morocco left me a really deep impression. No one would ever made understood how it feels like to sip berber whisky (Moroccan sweet mint tea) by the desert as the sun is setting behind the mountain, or to wake up to Tinariwen (Desert song), or those mid-days climbing stacked of stairs trying to find where each and every places located in Fez, or to hop on night local buses. Two nights before the flight to Marrakech, I listened to Oum song with title 'Soul of Morocco', clearly I hadn't speak the 'language', as I was confused of the song's description. And here I am, perceived every beats of the song. I see what she chant, and feel what she has put all together on the song. I guess, word itself won't make others agree. We humans, we may deny what we hear and see, because we want to, and we need to, most of the time. For me, if I love someone, I would take them everywhere, the place I stood before. Likewise, I will follow them to those places the always wanted to be. Love,
Liv
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 Growing like weed, free and be pulled out fast.      I see butterfly flew before my eyes, new season has come. all the winter reads to get me wise, or am I still stuck up and dump? Old playlist burst out loud, young souls bare skins. Driving full speed, lost in lust. Growing like weed, free and be pulled out fast. Honey, we are worthless. I can't barely see, I'm sailing nowhere. You won't let met flee, we're suffocated breathing the same air. Keep coming and longing, believing we're perfect fit. I woke up on the shirt you wore, you ran with my lipstick stain. Hope I misheard them calling whore, stripped in pouring rain. You've spent years, in searching for someone like me. You give up and shed tears, call my name at the balcony. Some time in March, A butterfly flew before my eyes, I fall back again, Same, old, mistake... Photographer: Ong Yi Sheng (www.oysays.com) Shirt: Zara Location: Southville, Bristol Love,
Liv |
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