She was a beautiful girl with a broken high heeled shoes. Her friend was in favor of the Cold War and the punk troubadours. You had to figure out a couple of things. The traps of time, the "tick" and the "tock" of bubbles without static, a building of backlit lights. She was a broken shoe with little girls in beautiful heels. I don't remember seeing her shoot at the children and the circles. People like green. Life is a beautiful moment that no one can remember. No one was as afraid to cry as you were. I'm afraid of losing her in a corner. I have to know that this job can break my bones, kill me or put me in a hospital bed, but I will never stop putting my chips on their scars. The whole ballroom shone, when she brought out her sunshine dress.
YOU ARE READING
I.C.U
General Fiction"Debbie Harry and Kurt Cobain; Luca Prodan; a city that burns; a freckled girl who leaves; a war on a mysterious island and a cursed writer are the flashes that run through the mind of a teenager who suffered a motorcycle accident."
