Mulberry

And when I take off my glasses, everything turns bokeh. The beauty is the out-of-focus at times. I am wearing a woolen cap made in Iceland. What are you doing? The blur is a beautiful thing, you know. It tells us we are there somewhere, just not close enough. People look like thumbprints from here, but you must be there. I will tell you about all the books I’ve read and lost, things that didn’t last, and films I still haven’t found on torrent. Oh, it’s okay. There is time. There always is. I know you will like Adventures of Neznaika. Let me buy a copy in the mean time. It’s difficult to find them these days. But I remember a store I found with an old boyfriend. An entire childhood in a dusty room. It’s like too much water in water colour…every shade blurs into another and I know I will be another blur but when you see me finally… don’t kiss me, turn into a salt flake. I will eat you with my mulberry.

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