I went to the disreputable district of the W city to get my keys. on my way there, seen from the streetcar: birds were falling in waves on the roof of the covered market. on the destination street two men were destroying public property with spray cans in their hands. Z. said to me: see, how many times a miracle was supposed to happen, but it was only shit we got. in the view of it all, Irena Kwiatkowska went to dance in another dimension. which marks the spring time, I guess. I miss someone to the point where it really gets on my nerves.
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