flâneur

No.195 - by Ella Frances Sanders - The Sometimes Newsletter

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Attached to the walls of cities I only recognise when I’m asleep, walking along what I believe to be familiar streets as the almighty red sun sinks into a stupor, I wonder how many miles my feet have walked in three decades. I am made from mosquitoes, I am made from from something everlasting and elastic, I am about to walk into the ocean.

Attached to the walls of cities I only recognise when I’m asleep, walking along what I believe to be familiar streets as the almighty red sun sinks into a stupor, I wonder how many miles my feet have walked in three decades. I am made from mosquitoes, I am made from from something everlasting and elastic, I am about to walk into the ocean. I used to be able to see universes inside my head. I used to sit on stars while they burned, could breathe in through my nose and taste the air that had been between bird feathers. I could smell time and smoke and the heaps of dried golden wheat resting…

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