TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: 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.