Tag: don_delillo

I look and listen. I try.
That’s my language.
I’m telling you because I trust you.
He was whispering for some reason.
This is not just a detail.
I don’t really know you.
What are you saying?
Look at where we are.
Words that have shapes and sounds.
She said that her mother’s name was Florence.
He did not try to imagine the lives inside.
There where times when he could not stop looking.
And it was probably normal.
It happened intermittently.
He didn’t know how to explain this.
It was one of the Saturdays that feel like Sundays.
It was clear to me that there was no romance between them.
These occasions stick and hold.
I tried to think about this.
I had to stop before it killed me.