kolońska i szlugi

It smells like summer, cigarets, and someone else's perfume - that July when everything seemed endless and a little dramatic. Back then, even Lana Del Rey sounded like she was coming not from the speakers, but straight from the blood: languidly, beautifully, with a hint of regret. Laughter until morning, "accidental" calls at two in the nite, conversations where what we didn't want to say out loud slipped between the words. Now he has a new life, a glass office, and someone else's embrace. And all that remains in my memory is the smell, the playlist, and a couple of songs that you can't listen to without a slight grimace. But it doesn't hurt anymore - it's just scenes from an old movie where the actors have long since gone their separate ways, and the credits just keep rolling on and on.