I wanted to seat down on the grass and write. 

I felt desperate for a second I didn't have any paper or space to move 

I couldn't ask the people around me to let me seat and write. 

I remembered Maija at the Lexington that night. 

We were dancing and she just went downstairs 

I followed her half worried half amused. 

She sat down by the road and wrote a poem. 

So there I was standing in the middle of the crowd 

With the sun on my back 

And I pictured Maija writing the poem that came to my mind. 

Maybe that's why I stopped feeling the urge to write straight away. 

Cause the poem already existed. 

Somewhere in time in space in London. 

I wonder if we ever thought the same things. 

Today I read a poem about real love. 

Real love would be a place to be real. 

Oh I love you really my gypsy baby. 

You may not be human but you are real.