I’m an artist, should be. Oil paintings, prints… red on my eyebrows, green glittery eyes and plain lips. Why plain lips? Don’t know, never know, he noticed them, then we kiss.

My sleepy tiredness doesn't give me nice sleep.

I hope to wake up in the hot summer, 2003. Dream never really comes to me that way, so I f--king have nightmares. My poor short sighted eyes can only see her sitting there, knowing that the future wouldn't chose her to be his, not then, not ever.

Precisely, there was never a he. She always wants to see a film of herself in 10 years’ time, you know, they call that future. Hopefully she could finally find out who tamed her, when I heard that, I was like ‘what? You mental or what? Who tame you? Ha! You are lost.'

She's not young, but still too innocent, we call this folly. I’m her only friend, really, most of the time I ain’t bothered of what she's saying. I saw her putting green oily powder on her beautiful eyes, because green is a happy colour, so maybe those were green-happy-tears on her face then.

You know, I’m getting old, six and twenty, horrified I must be if I hadn't got married. I don’t like kids; they represent troubles and responsibilities without acting because they are real. Of course you say me childish, but I say nobody makes principles of life, no one dare.

I've got oily paints on me face, so I think I’m pretty.

The nightmares still come, I am a friend to them.

She's sitting there with greenish happy-tears, I hope she knows that ten years' such a short time, it comes without her willingness.

I'm tame to him, he saw my plain lips.

Life's so lush. red eyebrows, green eyes and her, they're all in my sight.