certain morning lights
This is not an instagram life. This is the unphotographable. I take for granted that I don't struggle with it. Certain moments hidden in july nights, certain flavors, certain morning lights, a secret haul. Doorways, hallways, mirrors- corridors between buildings, straight streets, the pencil sharpener, the stapler. A rare quiet.
I do very little; I like to say that I go to the beach but I go to Flushing Queens, I go to the art studio, I go to work, to the H*******e. Hand in hand we go to Paradiso.
Paradiso doesn't seem like Paradiso. I see only people, only human bodies. ***** and I pull each other along. My eyes are squinted shut, maybe from the sunlight, maybe from smiling. The face of the water is cerulean blue.
I don't know what to say, other than that I'd like to hold on to it.
I do very little; I like to say that I go to the beach but I go to Flushing Queens, I go to the art studio, I go to work, to the H*******e. Hand in hand we go to Paradiso.
Paradiso doesn't seem like Paradiso. I see only people, only human bodies. ***** and I pull each other along. My eyes are squinted shut, maybe from the sunlight, maybe from smiling. The face of the water is cerulean blue.
I don't know what to say, other than that I'd like to hold on to it.