it is a little past two, the crickets have come out and their pithy sounds are unfaltering. the dark sky resembles nori sheets arranged end on end and odd stars are scattered like sesame seeds gone astray. i dream of sushi and the tangy taste of pickled ginger while i look at my toes, fresh out of the shower and pink, and dream, too, of the lovely things the next day promised.
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.– The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
the room was warm and cosy and you smelt like baby shampoo, the wall lamps shone a haunting light and the late wind blew a lulling breeze. your voice was crisp, if a little bit hoarse and you dressed in a collared shirt looking like you could please the world. we touched when you showed me how, you looked amused and i simpered at the tenderness of the moment. my cheeks flushed and there was music...