morning breakfast: coffee, buttered toast with salt
morning reading: maus, yesterday's paper
& listening: bomb the bass
in this place, people are blinded by some boundless optimism that makes them grin dumbly the day after a snow-storm, once the sun's come out again and the ice is dripping from the eaves and the trees. "looks like spring!" they say.
loneliness without memory, after all, is hardly loneliness at all.
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