je t’aime comme un fou, comme un soldat, comme une star du cinema; je t’aime comme un loup, comme un roi, comme un homme que je ne suis pas. tu vois?
click here to read my interview with Lily Allen, published in Chart Magazine.
what can i say about my second time in kosovo? about being with toni again?
should i be brutally honest? do you want all the graphic details or should i save something for myself?
i didn’t keep this blog for over 3 years in order to suddenly get shy.
it was intense. it was passionate. it was emotional. it was raw. we laughed. we ate. we kissed. we fought. we cried. we made a mess. we fucked. we didn’t speak to each other. we listened to music. we played with stray cats. we raced each other down abandoned streets. we climbed mountains. we played on see-saws. we struggled for power. we debated until 3am. we drank. we smoked long cigarettes. we felt each other up in back seats of taxi cabs. we ruined moments. we dripped sweat on each other. we stared at each other for long periods of time. we drank to us. cheers.
i cried on the flight back to london.
i want to see him again. but something tells me i never will.
toni’s band NewBorn performing to a packed audience. Toni’s on drums. click here to see footage the band performing on a major network in Kosovo. i love toni’s drum solo at the end where he looks like he’s orgasming all over the snare drum.
this article was printed in a tabloid magazine after i left kosovo back in june. it claims that i’m american, that i was in kosovo as a missionary, that toni and i were seen kissing all over the city, that we’re planning on getting married, and that either i’m moving to kosovo or toni is moving to “america.”
toni called up the editor of this magazine, outraged that his privacy was invaded. and the editor said that toni was lucky he didn’t print the papparazzi photos taken of us together along with the article.
i miss him.
tonight i’m having a bon-voyage party in clapham to say goodbye to all my mates in london, since i’m moving back to toronto.
then next week i fly home.
i won’t cry.