I practice French. The coffee brews. As my computer stares I roll a joint. Sitting here, thick smoke filling the apartment, I feel like the world is coming together. From this old chair I can tackle anything. The problems arise when I step away, toward reality. That’s when I start to stumble.
Lovers in swan shaped boats paddle along the canal. The late afternoon sun shimmers on the surface. Hordes of people wander the banks in various states of undress. They walk dogs and hold hands and hurriedly eat ice cream before it drips down the cone. Simple pleasures cure the lives we lead.
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