» Sunday 18 - Open letter to a partying flatmate
« You left the flat again at quarter past five.
I knew that because I had been looking at the green fuzzy arms of my watch for what felt like the development time of a galaxy, its solar systems and stars and planets and satellites and little life forms on the ones apt to host any.
By half past five one of these forms may have developed intelligence, then gained a conscience, and begun to worry if their universe was just the creation of one sleepless pissed off god.
But you left at quarter past five, and all was silence.
Actually, you slammed the door one. [read more...] [3 comments]
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