Looking back into the trees

And so we stayed indoors all weekend, at bars and on couches, dancing time and sobriety away. It felt like winter already, as we’d retreated despite warm weather and smart blazers to be worn. Jackets were traded in for cotton, stretched around sleeves and bathtubs and hair and toes. And as conversations ended, the street window whiplash of cars sped on and on. There you sat editing photos, full and hungry, waiting for the cold.