Lidspedwig

owing to the cyclical nature of my finances, most of my books have returned to the used bookstores from whence they came. my library exists now only in my mind and in the person I've become.

He's jealous. Not of people, but of buildings. He wishes he were a skyscraper. Wrapped in glass, staring raptly out over Lake Michigan, tall, proud, important. But he is no skyscraper. He's not even a two-flat. He feels most like an outhouse...if only they existed in the city.