I followed myself through alleys until I noticed her. She stood there laughing - at my work. The sound of her voice tickled me inside - and I laughed too.
The consequence of all that beauty: "it's nice to be alive", she said. I nodded and looked at the trees - her knees.
I built a house for us.
Full of bangs and bumps and volumes of emotion that translate into pictures and words and men smoking cigars in place of the scent of steak.
Beautiful women fly through as if tethered on ropes and suspense.
I built a house for us - well not quite - full of dreams and illusion and cries of more. More lawn to mow - innocent blades of grass filled with water
Well anyway, the search continues: self indulgent - soul preserving - I see myself, already past - who was I? I never got to know me really.