when i hear that song title, i think of sitting on a roof. i think of sunset colours and tree silhouettes. the place i picture is the caravan in wales, the one where joe made his axe, and we shared a small room. i think of a traveller town in the middle of nowhere. i think of romance, but not kissing and all that. it doesn't feel clear-cut, it feels thick and fuzzy. i think of sitting beside a best friend or lover on that low roof. i think more of a sunrise, than a sunset. monroeville is the trigger word, it sparks a strange emotion. it feels like caged freedom, the prospect and possibility of running away but the inability to. i imagine perfect solitude or comfortable companionship. not doing anything. not reading, writing, or on my phone. simply existing. the more i think, the more the possibility of a kiss arises. sitting on a rooftop, no-one is awake but you. you sit in a calm place. you are travellers, there are no restrictions or bounds. there is nothing to hold you down from taking flight. or maybe it's a suburb, land stretching between houses as you sit on the garage. you climbed out of your sash window and you lean against a higher wall. you use uneven ceilings to reach the highest point of the roof, and you sit next to the chimney. it's incredible how one phrase, one word, can spark so much emotion. i wear a loved hoodie, tattered converse high tops, and black jeans. my hair tied back in a rough ponytail, or left loose.
there is so much to say, but so little time.
