I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
propensity within someone
