smeared azure

I had been on my way home since 7, and it was 12:30 am when I stepped out to cross the street on Howe and Pender after getting out of the subway. I had been up since 4:30 to catch the first ferry to Victoria, and by the time I got into Vancouver, hours and hours later, the city; its drunks, its life were dusty, delirious, and dim. On the bus I had been watching a man flirting with a woman from Korea. I later saw him offer her his jacket to shield the cold night. She never spoke a single word. As I crossed the street of Howe and Pender, a blue car came speeding up to the crosswalk, it was vibrating with a booming bass, as the music was thumping at a high volume, I thought surely, it was some form of rap. When it got to me at the lines painted in the street, I noticed that the music wasn’t a gangster performance, but it was a Sarah Mclaughlin’s song that goes: “... cause we are born innocent”, and the person behind the wheel was a young teenager who’s face was contorted in passionate tears as she sang along to the song, at a higher volume than Sarah. She seemed completely distraught in her sorrows, grieving to an unknown pain. Her face shimmered a dark azure behind the red stop light. I crossed the street and got on the bus, where a fight broke out between drunk First Nations and a very drunk prostitute.

In threes Still Life

Diaphanous Books

if anything, do easy.

suburbian

Georgia East

Pit Stop

Slanted Trees