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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


04.01.03, tuesday night

At first it sounded like someone was dumpster-diving. Then it could have been some wino pissing, aim unsteady, on the wall near the bus stop. But standing on tiptoe, the curtain lifted, I saw rain, falling soft and steady by orange florescent light. Behind me, he breathed steadily and softly in slumber.




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