johann johannsson made a song on hyacinths and it killed me

i finished reading call me by your name, in the most unexpected reaction i could ever give to a novel: crying. always prone to crying, in private or public, i hardly ever cry at written stuff because.. well i don't know. seeing someone burst with emotions, the single tear, the hold backs.. it's not the same when you are mumbling words in your head.

but then again, it was a book ending in a break-up, and enormous amount of time piling up on that break-up. recently been through a hard one, and almost got another one on my hands those days, how could i not?

anyways. so i finished call me by your name. but i don't think i'll ever call anyone by mine, zehra. maybe nuverandi or maybe flower. one is the alter ego and the other is the literal meaning of my name.

started reading daha by hakan günday and i shall see how this one goes. my mind is on that lawrence durrell quartet: alexandria. it just seems dreamy. maybe later. maybe.

johann johannsson made a song on hyacinths and it killed me. december is a dreary month, things are silent, all but the wind in trees. you should dance to that.