the dark side versus the capitalist side. last night we were on both. the boy with the heavy french accent mixed with tribal languages of the congo river. this time I made him wait for me, almost an hour. I took my time going back to the dark side, slowly placing my feet in front of me, careful not to touch the cracks between the tides. I walked backwards to him and he laughed. the way he hugged me made me think he was sincerely happy to see me. I kept running into familiar people, I felt so transparent as if I was supposed to disappear but he held my hand so I couldn’t go anywhere. he shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake up the two month old baby. she’s incredibly cute. someone was snoring in the other room. he cracked a window open in the toilet; instead of rolling up he used one of my cigarettes. we both breathed rapidly with excitement. I thought I saw a star but it was just an airplane. we sat in darkness, rising higher. his sweet breath on my cheek as he drew in closer. he held my face in his hands. just like that. I could feel he was looking directly into my eyes. minutes of silence went by. we returned to the red district, flying. for the first time, the conversation kept flowing. everything and nothing. incredibly loud music but we just sat there. hanging out together. it was simple as that.
with sunrise I returned to my busy life.
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