It's almost winter in Haarlem, there's less time and more chill, the large eyes of streetlights catch my breath and stare plainly at my shadow. Metal necks lean in to whisper something, but I can't seem to hear the light. I can only see an ebony man in all-white garb across the avenue. He looks at me, looking at him, looking at me. We know each other, but then I blink. First you see him, now you don't.
Đang Cập Nhật
