Sitting in a cafe (preferably The Spartan on Grove Road), hovering over an hour old cup of tea, with a Marlboro on the go. Fringe down, gazing at Kafka's words, ushering in a new darkness and whispering on the chill breeze that blew from the Town Hall to the Library. It's ok to feel this empty and this hollow because life will fill me up with joy and desire. It won't ever be like this again.
Or so I thought.
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