scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


14.12.10
Not bloody likely, clear. The snow is blowing sideways, blowing my eyes shut and watery, unwrapping scarves, borrowing hats if you're not careful, and the cold is never so bad but the wind, the wind. The wind! How anyone could forge a city in this blasted place, and i think, i know, i say this about everywhere i've ever lived, and sure, they might have been coming from somewhere unimaginable, but the wind.

It's lovely in summer.

It ain't summer.

The airplanes are always cold, i don't know yet what it will be, in america. It will be very, very far.

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scrawled @ 19:32






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