Many hugs, your computer exploding dog makes me cry. The skylights arecovered with snow, and the it gets dark inside, muffled. It has the grey matte look of the inside of an igloo.
People scurry around, inside out-in, tyring to escape both, equivocating.
The floor of the bus had an inch-thick layer of dirty snow, and out the window over the bridge to the West, the river is only a set of shadows beyond the sick yellow lights. Not yellow and brown, but grey and white and grey-white and sick silver. I never said I would be your destiny, your superhero, your focus, your big misunderstanding. It's making me a bit desperate. Oh yeah, now everyone loves me again.