my friend wrongname is about to move into a new studio. he sent me this beautiful view from his balcony:
it is, as you can see, on the outskirts of the city. i don’t know if he can hear the seagulls, but there’s a forest in the distance, and the scattered building sites spice up the landscape. as for the acres of green(ish) fields, he described it as ‘irish lawn’.
‘now what do you want, huh, want me to call it weeds?’