jealousy is a beauty.

she's jealous of the city. the city can bump his elbows, stroke his red hair, and feel his feet walking, touching pavement. she cannot do all those things. she's angry with the tall city buildings, they can reflect his face, cast a shadow upon his golden body, and commanding his jaw to tighten or ask him politely, silently to narrow his eyes to see the top of those arrogant and proud greatest forms of art. and all she can do is wait, impatiently trying to change the pace of her life, a real nuisance. she has been defiled by him, once. now, she's eager for more. she's so close to blowing the city with one giant dynamite in her hand, burning its trees and the birds with borrowed torches, and flooding the buildings so the inhabitants will jump out of the windows like driftwoods falling down by the waterfall. yeah, she's crazy in hatred. not in love. she wants to conquer him, defeat him, pulling the white flag out of his guts. and in the end, she's winning. raising her hands high, touching the air of the city and shout out loud :


"i make the city, the city doesn't make me. and i break you. you, never break me."






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