Flat 215_Summer, Jerrold Yam

Flat 215

Friends can be everywhere these days, at corner shops excavating the latest gossip or smoking in alleyways where graffiti hides undamaged.
Memoir, Cafe, Jerrold Yam, Poetry


  After a certain hour buildings don’t make sense. Lights from across the street resemble nothing, my footsteps knocking on uneven stones, not bothered by their own discordant melody. I would...