I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more
personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more
romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't beenan audience.
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate,
but I can't
really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
,
I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.