Don’t talk to me after the film. I’m too busy processing. It’s the little
things that stir up your stomach, making you re-evaluate what you’re doing.
Pushing the question. Asking you “so, what now?”
I walk past endless cafés and bars, each one playing continuous hit
music. The taxi plays continuous hit music. A dark grey horsehead cloud looms
in the sky as we head down the road.
I’ve been walking in the rain. I know what I have to do. But the first
step’s always the hardest one.