Maybe there’s a good time and place to fuck up, I was lucky to fuck up there and then. But there’s no luck in finding a good time to talk. Lesson learnt: Always open up sooner.
“That bucket holding the Christmas behind me, it’s a well of loved memories to draw from. And as I sit in the living room he sat in, with glasses on just like he wore, with his slippers that I’ve now named as mine… I’m a placeholder, same as his new living state…”