On the steps of the gazebo I sat crying and the actor had to go somewhere else to rehearse his monologue. I read poems to the blind man and whispered to his guide dog. With aching knees I bought three odd-shaped lightbulbs.
Drifting again and my life seems too surreal to me. I'm taking out my cigarrettes; I still have a packet from last year.
1 comment:
Sounds very surreal... a hieghtened sense of reality, too many English classes...
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