"Oh all the world’s on fire, in this midday heat. The asphalt glimmers and creates swimming pools that levitate and shake. The sun washes out the colors; everything looks liked bleached bones. We stuff ourselves on chain-restaurant food. Even the smallest portions are too much. I miss Europe and its digestible allotments, its dark skies, moody relfections. My skin feels warm like darned wool. I look at my elbow and there’s a string hanging down. I go to pull it away, and to my surprise it’s not attached to my rolled shirt sleeve. It’s a piece of my elbow. I tug gingerly and it begins to unravel. I look around quietly, wondering whether or not I should tell anyone, but decide against it when my lips begin to slip off my face. I collect their stringy remnants and stuff them into my pocket. I tuck my elbow into my shirt sleeve, which I roll down towards my forearm. I sit on a bench. I watch the birds in the sky. I wonder when it will get dark."

Model; Mary scott