Conrad walks inthe door of his sparsely furnished appartment. It looks sparse, but the array of curbside furniture and decorations barely fill the expansive space.
He turns on the dim lights and lights some inscense immediately. Throws a few mismatched dishes in the sink, straightening up in the anticipation of company. Next throws some extra blankets and pillows on a couch close to what must be a linnen closet, then opens up all the windows.
He settles in what must be his regular chair, grabs an old acusitc guitar and stars to pluck around, creating nonsense lyrics that are only linked to gether by the same last word in one line, as the first word in the next.
Draft this Post
