the roses have dried;

ıslak mendil var mı?

i see feet moving under the table and i think it is a cat. it could be a cat—we are outside, where cats roam freely, abundantly. i haven’t yet seen a cat in this courtyard though, too busy they are finding places to hide from the sun.

a group of women talk about their grandchildren. there is a lack of wind. we feel the air stick to our skin and form a second skin. we wait for a breeze to undress us, but nothing happens. the roses have dried, the leaves hardly move and the trees no longer bend. it is the beginning of a long, hot summer.

a thin sliver of silver wrapped around my wrist holds my veins captive.

coffee rings inside a cup tell of time and pauses, conversations and silences.

after a moment, we are ready to set out again.


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