Everyday is grey
Grey cement buildings; grey skies
Grey wind blows grey dust
It is raining again. The big toothed girl from the advertisement stares down on me lovingly while I ride the train.
I want to punch her.
It’s raining. No one should be that happy.
I am unswayed by her attempts to make me buy her product, whatever it may be.
The train lurches along the wet track. Falling drops of water explode as they collide with the train. Salarymans and OLs play with their keitai, unaware, uncaring.
Buddy Holly muzak echoes through the bathroom in a steady stream.
My suit needs to be dry cleaned.
Everyday, more and more lights go up. Illumination. Winter is coming!