A girl freezes in a telephone booth.
In her draughty overcoat hides
A face all smeared
In tears and lipstick
She breathes on her thin palms.
Her fingers are icy. She wears earrings.
She'll have to go home alone, alone,
Along the icy street.
First ice. It is the first time.
The first ice of telephone phrases.
Frozen tears glitter on her cheeks -
The first ice of human hurt.
-- Andrei Voznesensky
Mm. Love that. Love that a lot. I was just thinking today that you honestly learn more about people from looking at the format of their online journals, rather than what you read. I mean, clearly readiing helps too, but if you look at mine. It's the biggest mass of randomness. The dates are just whenever I felt like updating, what I put down is clearly just stupid teenage ramblings that I might think about in twenty years and wonder why I was such an idiot.But thats how it works.