runway tender_square i swear he's fucking with me. either that or he's an oblivious savant the universe has sent as trickster figure. after the front porch cameras were installed, he moved his wicker chair and his small table with a thin-haired plant back up to his apartment. yet, he sits on the steps at every opportunity. i have forty daily clips of a constant pacing up and down the walk. he must change outfits three times per day, from jean jacket to leather jacket to stoner hoodie. he smokes at his car and strolls the butts back to a flower pot that will never grow anything. he places his phone, his driving gloves, his jacket on the top of the porch. he sits at the top stair, removing his ball cap, rubbing his face, putting his ball cap back on, picking up his phone, squinting in to the distance and then getting back up to walk to the car. he leaves for an hour and then returns to repeat the same cycle of steps. my phone constantly pings with notifications of movement and warnings that the batteries in these cameras will be toast soon. 230508 what's it to you? who go blather from