Quite long head. A6, 2016.
We sat in the garden a Monday afternoon. The grass hadn’t been mown for a month or so. The Pie focused wholly on a little yellow dandelion flower a minute beautiful, before crushing it in his fat caramel hand. In the evening we watched videos of people falling over in the street and maiming themselves on various gymnastic apparatus. Everybody laughed. We would drive to Liverpool the next morning.