forget about ships and skirts

The queen of denim is dreaming in 98 percent cotton, 2 percent elastane and waiting for shipping approval.

It is Friday afternoon in summer. The blinds are down, the office is empty. The overhead lights keep switching themselves off, not detecting any motion.

A courier should bring me a denim skirt but he seems to be lost in Helsinki. A man should love me but he seems to be lost in space.

I should go home and forget about ships and skirts.