Mark my words

There are no shallow sighs.
...
I wasn't expecting anything
And then you came
I see. And then i came.
I see.

(Do you, really?)

Why wouldn't you meet my folks?
I suppose i would, if we ever get serious.
This isn't serious?
Is it? Not to my knowledge.

(Ah! Elle le voit vraiment!)
...

Can't sleep. Two nights in a row. Thousand dreams.

Waking up to my dad's voice in the other room. He was calling me. But there is no other room. I was making a snack. Asked him if he was hungry. He said he never gets hungry any more. But he will be in the other room just in case.

No sooner than i left, my cool flat was completely re-done in an ugly green rock; mr. jones was continuously picking up things that i forgot at various places.

I put off all the fire that i caught on except the one on my back, for i couldn't reach. No one gave me a hand, but my dad who came back to help me.
...

Oh, i can interpret all of the above in a jiff! But i will only clue you in about the ugly green. Must be all that jade i saw in the museum last evening.

I don't like museums. They remind me of the zoos. Unwilling exhibits presented outside of their natural habitats.

Strategically focused track lighting shining on artifacts stolen from various countries stored and catalogued meticulously in a barren room full of hushed exclamations do nothing for me.

Well, except for giving me nightmares i suppose.