trying to draw blackbirds in a blue kitchen while the magpies on the branches of the tree outside fall in and out and in of love. discussing old guitars and old effects; our new lives take flight.
She weeps for all that she has wanted to be, for the words that run around inside her all day long but simply cannot fly, for the aeroplane that her paper wants to become.
The birthday girl weeps for her paper aeroplane. And at that very moment, she lifts up her pen. The birthday girl writes.
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