To turn off the lamp - I must lean over you, lean into you; I must squash the soft pocket of my belly against the dry patch of your elbow. I place my book on top of your book on the night table where you keep your socks and my stray underthings. I twist the lamp switch twice because it seldom works on first attempt. I match the curve of your back with my back. We breathe in unison until we don’t.
Been trying to encourage my thoughts to become more literary in nature. I’ve been reading more short stories and taking walks without the easy comfort of headphones. I am witnessing.
Today I noticed multiple young women dressed like boyish chavs. Am I using that term correctly? I’ve never been to Britain but I’ve seen a lot of movies. Most specifically I’m thinking of the protagonist of Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank. Sweatpants and tennis shoes and puffy jackets. I saw one girl with a surface piercing like a beauty mark beside her eye. Not sure if part of some future trend piece or just a series of coincidental lower class encounters in “Nu-Brooklyn.” It can be easy to mistake one for the other these days.