When it reached her butt she shortened it to shoulder. And it's just beautiful.
She stays at the workshop till six and I am unemployed.
We moved to Paris three months ago. She peels a fruit the same color as her shirt and offers me the rind to dispose of. 

-

I lost my teeth somewhere on the way here.
But they were never replaced, not by wood nor gold.
How do I then gnaw at you?
Making a hole in your belly big enough to squeeze into. 

-

It's the same with all the women I have loved.
If it's plenty dark and if they are deep enough asleep. 
Their faces become their fathers. I have to stop myself from laughing.
I wouldn't want to wake up these pretty little men.

-

Antonis was driving. He had a dead cigarette in his mouth the whole way there.
I was in the passenger seat. Ero in my lap.
We were flanked by forest. It was pink outside.
Looking out the window, through the thick growth, I saw fragments of sky as if someone had torn strips from the forest's pages. A pattern emerged from the dotted woodland as we rushed past. It made me think of childhood. The primordial chaos that makes up our earliest memories.
Textures; exaggerated and understated as if by their own free will.

-

The city slows down during the night.
Anything touched by shade becomes inanimate.
It isn't until you pass under a lamp post or are mercifully illuminated by the brakelights of a car that you spring back to life.
Red halos perch on your head.

-

I sometimes think about what to write in the paper when my grandmother dies.
Do I start now? It feels morbid and disingenuous. Here's hoping the right stuff spills out of me when the time comes. She instilled a lot of good in me, this woman. A pillar in my life. Matriarch to our small family.
In an interview on AIDS, Nobel prize winning scientist Kary Mullis said 
“Those who don't live by their grandmother's principles will have to pay for it.”
I think he was referring to anal sex but the point still stands.

-

We talked about her sister and my best friend, a couple.
And how likely they are to have been Nazis. Not us.
We talked about the red thread, conscience and covid.
She smiled at the waiter every given opportunity.
I wonder if she does this to waitresses as well. I think so.

-

We are running out of toilet paper and bottled water. Necessities for good cohabitation. I hop back out in search of a grocery store open after midnight. A black and white cat stands by the entrance of a little corner store, bathed in brilliant LED light.