Dreams

I like hands. When I wrote poems, hands and hugs were motives that would come back every now nd then. Sometimes, when I am on my commute from work, I watch people’s hands in the U-Bahn. I don’t know where this comes from, but I like to observe (however weird this might sound).

Last night, I was dreaming about someone special’s hands.

Occam – I Was A Derwish

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