HOME | DD

Description
Admit it; your hands are cold and so is the back of your neck; the part your hair doesn't cover.
Denial isn't getting you any warmer… yet you try to persuade yourself that you are not cold.
Truth is that you shouldn't really be. The wind is not icy cold; it doesn't feel like it's piercing your body, nor is the rain heavy enough to make it tremble.
But it is not normal for rain to rule such a sun kissed place. Even if it is this light.

People are strange; a few drops and they lock themselves inside, sit in front of fireplaces and tell stories of ages long forgotten. You know well that they're just looking for motivation to stay somewhere warm, enjoying familiar faces and smells.
Why are you outside again?
Ah, that's right. You're looking or motivation too; after all, isn't this your only chance to roam on the small city's empty streets?
Streets that despite being awfully silent, are not making you feel lonely.
People are strange; yes, they indeed are, but what does that make you?
Certainly not normal; maybe the strange one among people strangely normal.
After all, it is strangely normal to hide under covers when it's 'cold'.

The square that usually screams 'I'm alive' now seems deserted; scary.
Those strange statue-like makings on each side; you never got what they were about. They look like giants in a Lilliputian town. They're metallic; cold. Weird taste humans have… you'd prefer wood. Warm and natural.
But that's just you. The person strolling down wet, narrow streets, trying to figure out why don't people share your opinions; why they look at you like you're a stranger.

Then again, aren't you one? Sit back and think it over… You're wearing a sleeveless shirt hopping around puddles, wondering of strangeness' origins.
You're a stranger even to yourself; but it doesn't really matter.
You don't really need rules; you won't obey the one that already exist and you won't create new ones just for you.
You need broken bonds and an open sky to breathe; you're not able to get oxygen through small room with sealed doors; and… nobody stops you from kicking down the door.

Strange… You can't feel your palms. Your mind is slowly getting numb.
Yeah, strange; there is a jacket in your hands, but why don't you make a movement to put it on?
Strange; why are you alone? Why don't you feel lonely when you're alone?
Strange; though it's getting dark, there's no light through the windows; there are no eyes pinned on you as you pass.
Yes… People are strange… and you are insane.
Or maybe...
Yes… Maybe…

Description
Admit it; your hands are cold and so is the back of your neck; the part your hair doesn't cover.
Denial isn't getting you any warmer… yet you try to persuade yourself that you are not cold.
Truth is that you shouldn't really be. The wind is not icy cold; it doesn't feel like it's piercing your body, nor is the rain heavy enough to make it tremble.
But it is not normal for rain to rule such a sun kissed place. Even if it is this light.

People are strange; a few drops and they lock themselves inside, sit in front of fireplaces and tell stories of ages long forgotten. You know well that they're just looking for motivation to stay somewhere warm, enjoying familiar faces and smells.
Why are you outside again?
Ah, that's right. You're looking or motivation too; after all, isn't this your only chance to roam on the small city's empty streets?
Streets that despite being awfully silent, are not making you feel lonely.
People are strange; yes, they indeed are, but what does that make you?
Certainly not normal; maybe the strange one among people strangely normal.
After all, it is strangely normal to hide under covers when it's 'cold'.

The square that usually screams 'I'm alive' now seems deserted; scary.
Those strange statue-like makings on each side; you never got what they were about. They look like giants in a Lilliputian town. They're metallic; cold. Weird taste humans have… you'd prefer wood. Warm and natural.
But that's just you. The person strolling down wet, narrow streets, trying to figure out why don't people share your opinions; why they look at you like you're a stranger.

Then again, aren't you one? Sit back and think it over… You're wearing a sleeveless shirt hopping around puddles, wondering of strangeness' origins.
You're a stranger even to yourself; but it doesn't really matter.
You don't really need rules; you won't obey the one that already exist and you won't create new ones just for you.
You need broken bonds and an open sky to breathe; you're not able to get oxygen through small room with sealed doors; and… nobody stops you from kicking down the door.

Strange… You can't feel your palms. Your mind is slowly getting numb.
Yeah, strange; there is a jacket in your hands, but why don't you make a movement to put it on?
Strange; why are you alone? Why don't you feel lonely when you're alone?
Strange; though it's getting dark, there's no light through the windows; there are no eyes pinned on you as you pass.
Yes… People are strange… and you are insane.
Or maybe...
Yes… Maybe…