I have memories I’d rather forget, but are too precious to let go. You know them. Last night I was in that haze between being awake and falling asleep and for some reason I remembered watching The Bourne Identity and staring across the matress at you. Nothing but your eyes, a bit of sadness like [...]
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My father is somewhere, smoking his last cigarette. Scrubbers will take the air, and we’ll all breath it again. He calls it a celebration. There’s irony in celebration by slow suicide. There’s irony in the cargo bay, too. No tobbacco there. The glass – I call it glass, a fond memory – is finally clear [...]
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