The crunching was hurting his head. “It’s a chip,” I whispered.
Each time, new sheets.
The charity shops, the betting shops and the bars were open.
I took some notes on the buildings I passed: Grass, birds, and rabbits painted onto the side of a daycare. I can get behind that.
Towers aren’t there for the poor, they aren’t there for you and me.
While the year passes in the strict way of clocks, there are always other ways to structure your time.
In winter the noise of the Lahore streets sounds different. It is clean and vivid.
I tried to follow their conversation, sloppily trying to explain my work, how I’m doing.
I woke up the next morning in a bed that wasn’t mine.