The rain lands as soft as the bass. He can’t bear to look outside anymore, so he stares at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’ll have to leave this place eventually but he finds there’s a childish hope in him that he’ll stay here forever, swaddled in his self-inflicted misery, irreproachable for his sadness. To lift his head is to face what he’s done.
Paddy Dobson
22nd May 2024