The car full of children's books and mushy rolls of purple tulle. He lights a cigarette before leaving. Talking rabbits and fairies floating in a pool of oil.
Skinny legs. Barefoot on the floor. Lipstick smeared on his fleshy lips, red lipstick on the toenails. Baton rouge, would his friend with the phobia glazes and obsession for the warm colors (two sides of same coin).
The curtains open, the shutters opened, the family dinner in front of it. Lying, he sees them from below, he sees only the heads, open mouths swallow swallow swallow.
The closer you can see, objects.
let Cenini, do not bother us.
lights flashing from the opposite lane and a large hand, gnarled, shake the window. Distracted misses the greeting, but the sound of fingernails scratching the glass. A message arrives. Was it you? It was not me, not responding.
thoughts and feelings still imbued with darkness.
The curtains open, her legs parted, the plot to reveal that sex is a peach pit. Mouths open, moaning, groaning, they are silent.
neighbors have closed the shutters, he notes.
They have the old fixtures, enter draft.
His shadow fills the room, merges with blacks clothes scattered on the floor. Li keys one by one, to do with a thief. Some wear them. Sneaks out the front door just in time: the dawn comes. There is only one light on throughout the building. He turns to look, has a rapid railings and balconies, its synapses draw plans.
The light comes from an open window on the second floor, lit up, and inside a figure that brushing your teeth. Long hair, blonde, in head playboy bunny ears. Feels to be observed, laying the toothbrush and looks out. He sees her head on the pavement up. Waves his hand.
