I like people who are kind
You power past lights, lights, lights, labels in boxes. Labels which make money that do not always flow where it needs to go. A pigeon's claws slide on the dirty spotted tiles and take off the edge with the flapping of wings.
Trees lit in green - more lights, more artificiality. People walking. People smiling, talking, laughing, waving hands, waving eyebrows and the pigeon lunges with food in its beak.
Books behind closed doors. Beer bottles behind locked glass. They could all break.
I prefer people who are kind.
20 March 2002, Wednesday, 11:33 PM
Alter ego of dandruff
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