my heart sort of sank when i walked into his apartment. it looked perfect. our tastes are exactly the same, and over the months since we decided 'this just won't work', his life has apparently transformed without me. weathered postcards, illustrations torn from vintage foreign textbooks, and a sign advertising "cigarettes" in korean tacked on his walls. a ukelele in the corner. books -- piles and piles of them -- filling the shelves of his little white bookshelf and strewn haphazardly all over the floor at his bedside. dostoevsky, kurt vonnegut, rainer maria rilke... i couldn't help looking at him and wondering why on earth we ever broke up.
the quote on the wall: "the mundane is to be cherished".
that j, he is a wise man.
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