IWGD

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

I am below everything.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

It Will Get Lighter

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.