we are feeling babysick.
before today, the last time i spoke with a Viennese was six years ago.
dear grac,
it’s not that i don’t want to, or i’ve changed. nor is it because you’re less important.
n
It’s the cat that won’t stop meowing. The grass growing outside your gate. It’s the sad-eyed boy at the back of the bus, the driver that falls asleep. It’s the sunrise you always miss, the moonlight that makes you think it’s love. It’s distilled storms, thunder in a booth, lightning in a pendant. It’s everything and nothing, in five hundred words or less.
