I am coated with the dust of a filthy, unburied city. my snot is grey, my hair feels like hippie, and my eyes itch. everyone at work was complaining. I didn't mind until tonight, when I was walking home from the grocery store with cat food in one bag and toilet paper in the other, both bags acting like sails in 20mph northern gusts. I could see the clouds of dust long before they arrived. birds careened backwards overhead. when the wind died down it was almost warm and I could focus on how fucking beautiful it was; the sun's trying its damndest to feel like the end of April.
-11th & E. the snow's melting... yay.
-please first donate a less-pathetic donation sign.
-cavemen. on a dumpster. anchorage, will you wear this promise ring? because I think you're really keen.
-garbage can'ts.
-if you can't be vain in a sterilizingly-cold windstorm, you are... enviable.
-2150 AKST. this does not ever get old.
-this probably would, though.
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