it_is_she_thinks_a_tired_smell fyn gula a room used over and over for a secret love, in this hotel, overlooking an abandoned courtyard with empty concrete benches covered with snow. bare rosebushes. she wakes alone, hearing him dressing, smiling. she realizes that the tying of shoes makes a sound. "i left you a letter," he says. his hair is wet. "he must have showered as i dreamt of summer," she says to herself, and lays her head on his pillow, already cold. 030129 what's it to you? who go blather from