For the third night (and day) the homeless person sits on the same bench by the ball cage. It's impossible to say whether it's a man or a woman. Heshe is covered in so many layers of clothes. Heshe eats, drinks, smokes, read books as I do in the 3rd story flat from where I watch himher on and off. I stand (sleepless) in the early hours of the morning in my undies smoking a cigarette, heshe sits among hisher countless bags sometimes erecting a sky blue parasol as cover for … the world, I guess. At one point a drunk man sat beside himher smoking. I couldn't see if they talked at all. The field in the ball cage is red. Not like grass at all.
the upside down tree in the pond