I don’t smoke anymore and the corridors are filled with rust and glue, are hampered with Macy’s perfumes and a rush of geometrical anklets in expensive antique plastic. I don’t smoke and I want chicken wings. I don’t. I don’t have a face or any hair. I don’t smoke on my own in the dark. …
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The City of Resemblances
Kari made man made in Hong Kong in Wan Chai in Kowloon. I am immune on the edge of the sea eating almond soup. Hello obstructions backways and elevator islands, my glasses scaffold and white and small: a bee I am a bee I said. Someone smokes on the linoleum below taking each pull out …