Today I remembered small pleasures, seeing a familiar name in a newspaper.
Eating sour candy.
The soda soaked cup at the end of a visit to the cinema, and my sore tongue picking at popcorn kernels stuck in my teeth.
What a big accomplishment. Just like the films they put on for me.
A favorite of mine said I am part of the “children of Karl Marx and Coca Cola”. I’m not sure what he meant, but I never want to forget again. The characters burned so fast only the cigarette butts remained.
We held hands. Children were conceived in that cinema, and grown-ups turned back.
Someone gave me a light.