from the album of Losing the Interest and Trust I Had in You by Flatsound
he has been locked for the past few weeks in his own room
doors don't want to grant the present of some press speakers who wear black pyjamas and tiny tidy tie like who were he usually watched on TV
"How could this happen to me," a chorus that often echoes in his mouth before finally ends flying at the end of a struggling window
that's the only sentence he can remember from one of his favorite western songs that accidentally landed in his ears in a restaurant moons ago when the atmosphere of the city was jammed because too much electricity cables above the road and thirsty birds perched on it
sometimes he falls asleep and forgets to turn off the gramophone
its age is same as his mother's
playing an instrumental music of Max Ritcher in 2018
makes it no worse than yesterday
sometimes he reads old newspapers published when he was born which no longer even have attractiveness to be read by humans from any universe
his good habit: reading
his bad habit: reading one paragraph repeatedly without knowing what it means
the last news he read: someone was found dead covered by an old newspaper in his room on his 89th birthday.
(March 17)
