Radio nr. 1

The march of the gay parade continued. As the jehovah witnesses approached, their eyes glistened like fire in the cold, cold winter. The air was light and dry. I stood there wondering how long this would take, I was not in a hurry, but I couldn't stop thinking about her. Her long frizzy hair and her fake fur coat. I've always known that she hated that coat, but she knew people would stare her in the eyes, and sometimes even despise her and call her names. It didn't really matter that the coat was obviously fake, it was pitch black and the fur was more like an old rug, found in the thrash of some old beggar. It was Harry that told me that even the beggars threw stuff away. Before that I thought they kept on to anything they could get their hands on. That was before. I used to throw them a dime or two when they approached me, their dark eyes staring at mine. I was never any good with strangers, and they obviously noticed that my hands were trembling when I gave them the scraps of my pockets. But right now, I just thought about her.