the girl who said fuck frequently walked on a cobblestoned road embraced by trees. the last of few.
Ryan and I sat on brown benches yesterday.
a jib crane and eventual death the caving metal roof, last century’s rust
she sat in the rickety purple train with nothing but a yellowing photograph, a bar of chocolate, and a dream.
The difference between knowing everything and knowing enough is one that every individual should understand but very few do.
There’s no part 1, but if you imagine there was, it makes the entropy easier to accept.