Sun, I’m in a rush.
The station’s fresh air, I run down quickly. No, slowly if in front of you nobody moves.
Whistle, wind and I’m on the train. 20 stops, 9 songs if nobody calls me. I sit down, open, scroll…I scroll more, keep scrolling, outside of time. I don’t feel hot, I don’t feel cold, I don’t hear noises. He’s truly good at it, she’s truly perfect, that girl is stupid, he’s really a bum.
I just want them to understand me, nobody really understands me. My dad still pinches my cheeks, my mom cries all the time and I don’t know why, my sister, let’s not talk about it. If she doesn’t stop commenting on my business, I’ll kill her. I scroll, the door opens, the door closes. Quickly.
It’s incredible how liked my hands are, when I grow up they’ll shoot a movie on my hands. All my life told with my hands. They’ll give me an Oscar.
No, even better, the Palm at Cannes, so I can take a nice vacation in the French Riviera.
