“Decide now,” he said, “which photo will you give the newspapers when they call?”
Writing a note to your roommate is hard when you don’t know who they are yet. It is even harder when you know you will never know. But I will write to you anyway.
the girl who said fuck frequently walked on a cobblestoned road embraced by trees. the last of few.
the man who had just been given a seven minute long motivational speech of the Most Outstanding Quality blinked. the Speech Giver, a presumably wise, interesting-smelling old man on the skywalk by the station, had disappeared.
Ryan and I sat on brown benches yesterday.
a jib crane and eventual death the caving metal roof, last century’s rust