Dearest,

I am finding myself dreaming about reality. The lines that marks, the lines that keeps are slowly melting, dripping from the edges. As go about my daily life the borders in between worlds are blurred.
Memories from dreams and life that does not belong now exist together and they exist in double.
Simultaneously
Repeatedly
Parallel
Joined
They creep into each other
    and i wonder, dearest, where do things happen?

I am remembering this garden that we visited together.
Do you remember it?
It was early spring and we were standing in front of a great wall of elderflowers. You recognised it because it is the bush that gives the nectar for the sap your grandmother used to make you.
“This wall of flowers is a gate” (i heard), and so you stepped forward and gave your breath away for the elderflower to keep. The bush shivered and in a slow exhale the branches separated.
I understood. I followed you.

Fresh green leaves applauded silently.
The rain reminded you of the existence of (your) skin.
In the garden the weather was what you felt it to be.
Vibrations.
Electric, soothing, smashing, burning.
Tingling, like the stroke of a fingertip along your neck (that could take you anywhere). There was soil underneath our feet and you realised that you no longer had your shoes. But this did not bother you.

The garden is a feeling.
The land is always growing there and I want to sit again with the tall flowers I used to seek when i wanted to hide. Did you do the same? Did you find shelter in the growing? 

Amongst the white petals and yellow oceans the land is growing.
You placed your hand on top of it, and you felt it. Moving underneath you. A feeling of strength, growth, luster, muster, pyser låter gnager gråter
Does the words feel strange (to you)?
The seagull ate the baby swan that the raven snatched from its mother
Do the world feel strange (to you)?

I exist more and more in this garden. Where the air barely feels and the noisy maggot in my ears does not crawl eat talk scream. Rub itself against me.

Do you remember it? 
I can see you now smirking in front of me. I see you as you are passing through the gate.
Poppy flowers and roses over the hedge coloured the floor red. A pear tree was growing. Figs were falling.

Do you remember?
Can I see?
(can I see?)
Can I see your memory?

The lines are dripping, where do things happen?
I am in my bed, the room is drowning in darkness. I drift through, over, in between.

I remember clusters of lavender, can you smell them? Their scent brought on the wings of soft winds that caressed the tip of your earlobe.
The door and the window the door and the window.
A draft.
I drift through over in between.

The room is drowning in darkness and I keep remembering this garden that i might have never visited, and I wonder do you remember it too?

We are there together. I can see us. The figs are falling and they are sweet like sun rays in may. 

In my bedroom drowning in darkness I remember two things at once.
Dreams became memories, reality melted.
They now exist together
Parallel
In double

Did the story split?
For me it did.

Sincerely yours,

What I need

poppy flower

tall white flower

yellow flower

(candles (maybe)

fabric from my bed

elder flower

lavender

earth

rose??

fig

David Maroto Workshop May 2021