3 x Vancouver
So I arrived in Vancouver and why I got stuck on dirtiness I don’t know, walked down Hasting St which is the street where the crackheads and the homeless and the misfits of Vancouver pull their carts around and get their food and go to their clinics. It’s harmless landscape of miscolored hair and long long beards and sweaters with holes in them and I don’t know why I find these kind of scenarios poetic but I do find it poetic…
Maybe because the air is so unbelievably crisp and clear in Vancouver and the mountains so peaceful and the crosswalk-guy has such a an energetic stride and it’s 5:30 am in New York now and bed is calling but too much perfection suffocates me because perfection is never true there’s always other side and I want to know I always want to know…
