(no subject)
Mundane moments would carry with them a certain amount of magic. Sprinting down the street well after midnight, beer laden legs flailing, would have felt important, a mark in the world so insignificant it couldn't be anything other than special.
Instead it merely felt like a way to pass the time.
No meaning to make. Just a dodgy joint on a dodgy street, the remnants of a different time fluttering away with the sizzling sounds of a deep fryer.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.