La Bas Bleu

I was taking the bus today, and we drove by the most lovely boy walking down the sidewalk drinking coffee. So, I'm sitting here, wanting to jump out the window and ask him if he loves Johnny Flynn as much as I do, bored beyond belief, taking in every detail of this person. Skinny jeans, black keds, plaid shirt, tan canvas jacket, pale and messy, looking like he hadn't slept in days. My friend paying no mind of course - she thinks I only like people who look like heroin addicts.

And I'd love to say,

"Hey there adorable indie boy,

You look drawn out and sick,

Lets smoke too many cigarettes

And listen to Bob Dylan?

Yeah?"

But I never actually meet these people, unless you count visually stalking them for a couple seconds. Where do these people actually live? The ones I know are over sensitive and know nothing of Rembrandt.

Oh well.

Bonsoir