NYC: I want sunshine but you give me soil. Not the depth, tho. Just the dark.
TORONTO: Dark, drainage - my love release me from my artificial articulation
the things I want cannot be painted.
NYC: Is this bridge something I alone created? Can you meet me there? Touch my nose?
A text is currency, but it isn't the stair.
TORONTO: My memories want to make you into a million pieces so I can tangle myself in between the spaces you forgot to let close.
NYC: My fire is only ever burning for me. A candle, that's where you keep me --
on a ledge, to make sure you have a destination.
-Jenna Kennedy x -Andrea Grassi