Look through the round window

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She stares back like she means it; as he sees you, faking it weakly. Those hourglass waterfalls cascade down decorated window frames masking years of poor construction. Passing playmobil cars shuffle and dance, spinning out of time to erratic traffic lights on frozen city centre lakes. Reconstituted families move in bored silence through competing hordes to bargain bin promises within excluded galleries. In the wilderness, out on the steps, forgotten teens without coats or spatial awareness huddle together for meaningless gossip, infectious warmth and heavenly cigarettes. A still, mirrored reflection is caught with a shadow of her presenting utmost; as imagined and played on repeat in soundtrack form. We ache for the taste of Swedish regret in moments like these; passing through the day-to-day lives of others unknown as if we possessed a respectful right to observe, monitor and report. You point and click with tongues hanging out, notebooks at page one. We translate the action figures and reality scenary with error upon mistake upon misplaced empathy. We are they, you are us. It is that time of year: be kind, be true and wish for a hopeful Spring to arrive in tomorrow's, younger, arms. This embrace can never last like you really want it to for, as the song reminds us, "we're lost at sea".
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The Morning Paper - 'A newer taste' (4.26)
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It's getting clearer.
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