apocalypse, already
on the bench is a dying man, staring at his phone. He turns to look at me as I sit next to him. His face is oil on water. He squeezes his eyes against an aubergine sky. passing train - please stay behind the yellow line
on the bench is a dying man, staring at his phone. He turns to look at me as I sit next to him. His face is oil on water. He squeezes his eyes against an aubergine sky. passing train - please stay behind the yellow line
