The women is itself not a content
It is an unwavering faith in the fictional
Because they don’t exist
This work was made under the auspices of opulence
In incandescent occidental forest
In soft pale-green medium-sized notebook
(titled Many Notes Towards an Essay on Girls, Girlhood)
In the coolness descending from trees at night
Mainly I wanted to traverse a failure
Then I wanted the phoneme to spread around me like a sea