The Bulletproof Glass

We are in the city. Snow has just begun to fall and is sticking to your chestnut eyelashes that I’ve always been so jealous of. No one knows where we are. We don’t remember the last time we saw our phones. Phones are a foreign concept, lost in the ether. Time is abstract, something we do not follow or feel on this street corner of Bed-Stuy before it was cool, as if we are two lovers caught in one of those airport snow globes. 

<3 M.