Sublime

She told me that most cleaners at the hostel were artists and often collaborated on projects. But when I told her I was a writer, she didn’t bother to ask what kind. Was it because I wasn’t dressed like a Berlin artist (my pants were black but my T-shirt was white) (and I don’t own any combat boots) or could she tell from my eyes that I haven’t wri

Her speeches had two refrains: “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna get big boobs,” and “Can I really go through with this?”