Everything, in the current moment, hinges on the fact that I want to tell you about the following: I caught myself in the bathroom mirror at the office. It's definitely autumn now and it's cold, even here ten floors up. And I am looking at my new haircut in the men's room mirror and I can't stop noticing that my tiny little nipples (pert) are hard, underneath the old washed maroon polyester of my vintage lacoste polo shirt. And you should know that. Even still there will be arching backs and huge unchartable distances so you'll have to take my word for it.

When getting freaked out we have to retreat to the empirical. To the body, I guess. When (you know) broke.

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