cupid + psyche

The piano is playing in the background. How sweet it is to be loved by you...

An old man sits by his fireplace. It is cold outside. A little boy is pushing a red wooden cart that sells brass bells. The bricks pile up against the sky. In the middle of winter and spring. Two swallows perch on someone's chimney, and the Taho man begins his daily routine at 5 am, lifting the buckets and yelling into the quiet morning. Inside the 7th apartment from the old man's home, someone clicks away at a rusted typewriter. Clack clack. Clack. Her name is -. She lives -. She loves -. She dies. The end. The writer sighs and stops. The door opens, and the Taho man is waiting. Warm syrup and cold tofu. It is good for the soul.

perio week. Sleepover at Rikka's tomorrow. Reader's theatre. o2jam is dizzying without music. and with music. I felt dead upon getting home. Collapsed on the bed and slept like a rock. A vibrating pillow woke me. and thus I begin to study once more. Maybe. Motivation is...slow. My sense of responsibility is on vacation in Palawan. It is drinking strawberry shake and watching the dolphins.