materials: ink pen

a church in winter

Everyone who spoke to me that day was a tourist. They were mostly looking for directions, and I felt obliged to provide some, despite being directionless and confused and mostly a tourist myself.

I’d managed to cover every inch of my body with the exception of the hand that was gripping the pen. I could feel my hands growing numb over the course of the afternoon and eventually I had to call it quits. I felt like the tourists were laughing at my misery as they passed me, every one of them settling comfortably into a warm cafe and laughing.

Who draws during winter? Who moves to Berlin during winter?

Someday I will have enough money to commission a building that looks exactly like this, waves and all.