You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me see through your eyes. The chair I sat on creaked in the sun. In the night we write new books, and for every time we breathe in, others breathe out.

I sat and listened to the blue, blue sky, the laundry and the pigeons, seagulls, swallows (were they really swallows?). I’m just waiting around for the fucking sun. It is all about the surface, I sailed around on the surface of everything.