dear internet,

the couple behind me are speaking in an eastern european language except when they say the word “shitpost”; the man playing when the saints go marching in on the trumpet, he said bravo to himself which was sweet but then he poked my arm for money which wasn’t; when the toddler stumbled and all our bodies bent forward in collective instinct; the woman opposite me puts on sunglasses and smiles down at her phone. landscape pulls itself away from me: grey skies grey buildings, ugly graffiti, the trees don’t yet know it’s spring. the train stops, we incline our heads as if this will help us hear the crackly announcement telling us what we already know. a banana browns in my tote bag. the other day i did an internet quiz that told me the reason i make art is gratitude. 

love, 
t