remove the curtains from the windows, scrub the glass until it turns to diamond .
when in paris, i wandered aimlessly down a random street.
the kitchen is out of order, off-kilter. the benchtop is narrow, evenly-matched,
the world is supposed to be noisy, she knows this. knows it in the way rain patters over the roof and the ocean.
It's become habit, buying new glassware every so often.
In the middle of town, there's a tree with a string of lights wrapped around it; Christmas lights, from the looks of it.
the stage stands, cold and bare. tonight there are no decorations,