...he said, and went into a lenghty discussion on why I can't use any words that have to do with fornication, especially not when I talk about my mother in the same sentence.
And he talked about the beautiful sunset today and how awesome it would be to fly to the Netherlands for just a weekend, smoke weed and then come back... When I disagreed he said, hey, don't you have any sense for poetic?
Timothy was fishing for coins, smoking my cigarettes and laughing silently into his ash grey beard about Gerald's monologues.
Gerald had bought Timothy a warm dinner and had clear eyes despite his slightly buzzed energy.
I was trying to relax from 30 minutes of children screaming relentlessly. And as the whole world walked by and my friend was having dinner for her birthday party I thought to myself: I prefer to sit with the homeless. See, how his eyes were shining when he was talking about the sunset and Lady Di.
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