she stands by the street corner, as cars drive past. she wonders if she should cross. traffic.
waif-like with her long cascading hair and shapeless ivory dress, she is far from being one. traffic. moves so fast it seems like a whirlwind danced through the streets moving everyone with it except her. traffic. a breeze blows past her face from across the street, sweeping the hair behind her. traffic. pushes her along even though she doesn't want to walk. traffic. she gets hit by a car. traffic. does not stop. traffic. she gets up bruised. traffic. crosses. traffic.
Entry @ 2:39 AM;
Friday, November 28, 2008
