I know very little about you.
And sadly, I do lack the interest.
You claim to be a city, and deserve more attention.
I know, but I being selfish,
Only trudge through the necessary roads
Of my everyday life.
And I am happy with that,
Even if that’s not true, I presume no other way
That you could make me happier.
I don’t know if I should feel obliged
That you have shown me the first snow
And have given me something
That I sometimes feel tempted to call life,
Far away from home.
You make me do things, that I never thought I would have to do.
And show me the true color of loneliness.
Loneliness. I thought it to be very charming and poetic.
Without you, I could never know how pathetic it could be.
And those excruciatingly sad wake-ups and vacant hours.
My entire existence has shrunk to this small room.
You have that great voyager’s name, that mocks at your mundane self.