friend | #9
Published in
1 min readMar 9, 2018
his legs crosses in and his head disappears there — on cold building roofs. some steel some concrete. pollution fills his nostrils. he is undeterred by the honking or the sirens. in the night sky, pairs of wings are aplenty. he stares at him, and speaks to him.
an hour to cherish.
an hour to talk.
an hour to smile.
an hour to breathe.
he stands back up, holds his breath in. he heads into the room and closes both his eyes. his legs crosses in and his head reappears there — on cold room floors. some steel some concrete. he takes one deep breath, and his cycle will continue.
#9 – on a que ce que l’on mérite.
