I remember us sitting in that bar filled with foreigners, just like now, raining late September over cities, I had rain boots and I sipped wine, you had unfiltered beer and I chainsmoked and you hated it so bad, not knowing you yourself will be doing it again just about a month later.
The theater in May or April, I’m so lost about that, so helpless and confusing dates and times of the year. I waited so long for the perfect movie script and it turns out I don’t even know if that’s real life any more. Pain, with no pleasure, with no second thoughts and an infinity of chances. Like February made me shiver.