thurursday bijou i was snapping pictures of amy sprawled across my bed without her clothes on under the light strip my grandfather has had since the fifties. the light bulbs on it that haven't ever been replaced said 8 hours maximum life. she smoked and played with my kitten, trucker. 030331 ... bespeckled She sat at my windowsill, her hair fluttering over her shoulder, carelessly looking beautiful, as her eyes roamed the sky. She glanced at me with those cat eyes, smiling her knowing feline smile - knowing I'd never be her or feel what it feels like to be in her skin. 030331 what's it to you? who go blather from