Mood: unbothered We are all destined for the box. The cosmonauts and janitors destined to the same fate. Everyone in there was partially dead as well. A box draped in hues of nationalism contained the priority of everyone's damaged psyche. I was able to look towards death through the face of a stranger for the first time in a while. I wanted to examine closer but I did not want to transform into a centralized spectacle. The sting of glaring eyes would have cheapened my purposes. Chino, my beloved, you will soon be home. Your birdie moog will be waiting for you with open arms.
Drive me home in the same old car
4:49 p.m.//03.26.07
Sound: Echo & The Bunnymen -- Show of Strength
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