The way sometimes you can't stop eating junk food, even though you're not enjoying it. It's like an automatic motion of the hand.
The familiar faces in cafes, and not knowing if you should say hello or not
The intersticies of light, breaking through the dark monolithic shape of the trees
The way the late afternoon light bounces off the parked cars and the path, making them otherwordly
The strange overlapped spaces of the bus mirrors. In one, a closeup of a woman's face. In another, my feet overlapping a stranger's feet. In the last, the driver seems to be watching me.
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