my father .

My father is bitter coffee and black, boring pajamas. He is anger at unexpected moments, like after a light joke or a nice silence. He is chaos. He lived in it. He’s used to it. He can’t live in jokes and nice silences. Its unnatural and uncomfortable for him. He lived in screaming and moving constantly and losing things, always losing things. He has lost so much and is determined to make other people lose their things too. Even me. Especially me.

n.c.

September 13 , 22