The whole place had the fragrance of oolong
Gone fishing
I wandered the halls seeking its spirits, dead or alive
Why should I take the long road?
It was hot in the city, but I still wore my raincoat
No one expected me. Everything awaited me
It occured to him that nothing was going to happen
His young eyes stored away each play of light
To be an artist was to see what others could not
I cherished the idea that one day I would write a book
I was never going to be become anything but myself
I was a bad girl trying to be good
I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates
There’s no way you’re going to get a quote from us
People either love me or they hate me, or they don’t really care
Leave the house before you find something worth staying in for
It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use
Crouching next to a huge pile of dung my mind froze up
When the time comes to leave, just walk away quietly and don’t make any fuss
A wall has always been the best place to publish your work
He seemed genuinely surprised
I have always tried to avoid pain
That was the only beautiful thing I ever had
His eyes are pounding, he feels a scream rising in his chest
When you have that feeling, everything’s full of life, every leaf, every pebble
You see them when they’re leading up to something
These are good things to look at, but sometimes you don’t see them
All week long he’s looked forward to this day
You try not to remind anybody you’re there
Would you like to go back? It’s completely up to you
I was there but was also everywhere
We’re having a little tension in here today
I could not help but wonder what tomorrow would bring
We sat tensely for a long time, not talking
It is hours to go before you sleep
I daresay we had become poets
And Now for Something Completely Different
It made you just want to lay out there and catch rays and think your happy thoughts
I said out loud, as I was supposed to, what I was feeling
He knows, too, that he is only postponing his own death
Time passes, as slow as death
Everything is still for a while
I’ll do all I can do to spare your life
One wrong move and you’re dead
And your clothes, where are your clothes?
There is no innocence in this city
With no book to read and no one to talk to, he fell asleep on the garden bench
Still, he doesn’t look back, thinking that that is the way of doom
There are benefits to being of small size, after all
He does not want to fail; he cannot afford to fail
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