my hair, after a shower, after a shared run, looking at him.I noticed this morning that he had left a chair in my living room turned around. He always does this, twists a chair around to put on his shoes, then doesn't turn it back. I like this little mark he leaves on my flat. A tiny rearrangement of my furniture, a substantial rearrangement of my life, sense of who I am. Bodies in motion.
1 comment:
F says: I don't think of this as "happy" exactly. More "smouldering, incendiary, like Rudolph Valentino". All the boys and half the girls among your blogwatchers are now shuddering on the floor, their input circuits overloaded, as mine are. I'm rearranging your furniture, and you're just an ordinary girl, burning down the house.
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