Dear D.

The smell of the coffee, plastic and meringue, on the platform, swiiizzz from the rails & an old man with a cap closes his eyes.Sunny noon.Waiters commuting like every bloody Saturday.Cloud. Lazy bones.Catwalk of deserted wharehouses on the way to greenwich to fuck with the clock, I hear your click and rewind.Happy witch.Serious wish.Forest and roughness, I give you a ton of metal in the form of a crashed Ford for 10 kg of leeves and wood.Xxx L.
12:04:2008 12.49.45