it's four years of walking home
it's when the sky splits and the light turns green
it's no stranger than spring surprising us yearly
it's the spontaneous monotony of school, gym, shop, cook, work, work, drink, sleep, work, fuck, spend and savor the interaction -
it's action!
it's a matter of exposure, all of it.
it's four years of never learning French, of gaining and losing, of laundry and hangovers.
it's rationalizing, rationing, rashness.
it's haecceity, the thingyness of the thing, it's eye contact and brush strokes
it's so funny to me
it's backyards and balconies and bathroom chats and belligerence
it's prime and messy, rough and rude, free and limited
it's jaywalking and speed walking and sweet talking
it's event making and dance partying and so much brunch
it's a hunch that four years well spent will be missed in the best way -
thank you for being a city i can call
home.
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