Some People Fake Their Death, I'm Faking

It Was The Time Of Year, The Time Of Day, For A Small Insistent Sadness To Pass Into The Texture Of Things. Dusk, Silence, Iron Chill. Something Lonely In The Bone.

Clouds Are No Deterrent. Clouds Intensify The Drama, Trap And Shape The Light.

Eye Contact Was A Delicate Matter. A Quarter Second Of A Shared Glance Was A Violation Of Agreements That Made The City Operational.

I Watch Movies Occasionally, And I Watch Documentaries. Virtually Nothing Else.

Sex Finds Us. Sex Sees Through Us. That's Why It's So Shattering. It Strips Us Of Appearances.