Flower moon, sacred sign.

It’s 1.29 AM and my thoughts refused to sleep. I’ve been listening to Bombay Bicycle Club, Vampire Weekend, Noah and The Whale, and another bunch of tunes from my typical go-to midnight playlist serving as a common remedy, nonstop since a couple of hours ago. I’ve read the first page of this famous piece of classic from Bukowski, and apparently the appetite’s just left the building. Perhaps tomorrow, or even next month, we’ll proceed to page two. But anyway, I’ll turn 24 next week.

God I’m old.

And, inevitably, closer to death.

(to be continued…)