Hello London

I am home and I see the people running through the streets because there is nothing like Summer evenings in London with everything but the cars and the cold empty buildings and the foxes and the fireflies and if can, you can bury me here in this city that I love, that I live and die for, but I will get old and tired but you will find me running these streets if you come out. I don’t care for the solstice.

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Nosebleeds and headaches

– did your father beat you?
– they took turns.
– I thought you only had one father.
– every man has. I mean, my mother got in hers.
– did she love you?
– only as an extension of herself.
– what else can love be?
– the common sense to care very much for something very good.
– it needn’t be related to bloodline. it can be a red beachball or a piece of buttered toast.
– you mean to say that you can LOVE a piece of buttered toast?
– only some, sir. on certain mornings. in certain rays of sunlight.
– love arrives and departs without notice.

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