how much? the cost of living is in a currency i can’t fully comprehend.
the attacks were devastating. i switched it off. it seemed disrespectful to watch the suffering of others from a comfortable lounge chair. i don’t know how many died.
lately i try to avoid the bookshops, even the secondhand ones. one in particular, the one where you used to work. outside, the window was reflecting my face next to yours as you were working behind the counter. i was measuring the distance between us in my mind, guessing eight or nine meters. every time i passed the shop i would look through the window and check, still eight or nine meters, that’s how far we were apart. even now that you have left, i still go to look through that window, just to see, how close we got.
how often my love is my weakness.
to the bridges of paris lovers fasten little locks, so many commitments to love that the bridge railings were in danger of collapse. i remember ours, we threw it into the river. also in venice, you made a little ceramic fish with our names and we threw it into the grand canal near ca’d’oro on your birthday. i dreamt it swam out into the sea and through the tides and currents into the canal in front of the house in amsterdam; its tail was broken but it was still alive.
‘we also sell bespoke collars.’ his grinning voice was slimy and affected as if his mouth could never open wide enough. i thought it was part of some fetish accessory enterprise. it reminded me of a venfield 8 video i saw of a man with a designer leather collar; i imagine he’s reaching orgasm as he’s pulled on it. i see the rush of it in his neck and his groin. he moistens his lips; ‘his name is coco’, it’s a young yorkshire terrier with a diamond studded collar in bleach beige ostrich leather that scratches into the room, ‘the chain is 18 carat gold.’