everything else: a list
dear internet,
your reflection in a café bathroom. ice cream from a petrol station convenience store. circling a mall to kill time, knowing there’s nothing you want to buy, really. the five minutes of heavy rain before the wind changes and it steadies. watching milestones from a car and then suddenly seeing an empty one, the numbers weathered into blankness. anything you consume while you’re walking (juice packet, french fries). toffees instead of change. the point at which it seems like there can’t possibly be another ad before the movie starts, but then there is. the dehydrated vegetables in a pack of ramen. any plant that grows in concrete: pushing through cracks, reaching through walls. the moment between lights out final curtain and the start of applause. saying i’m just looking, or no, i’m still deciding, could you give us five minutes please. the opening bars of song you last listened to on a device that doesn't exist anymore (discman, iPod classic). nodding while on a phone call. someone quoting poetry in a novel.
love,
t