Good girls sometimes don’t feel like going home. They buy cheap microwaved rice balls and sit in the streets. They lie on stone benches and stare at the smog-stained blackness above, and realize for the first time that this way, the buildings look like bridges that shoot out into a chasm with conviction but then fall into nothingness. This looks like their lives. Good girls want inspiration. Good girls are out to realize everything for the first time. They lie until they feel a bit homeless and sit up to pull out their American computer. They feel like the center of the harsh autumn wind, then think about how pitiably little they know, how precariously they are protected, how they will grow up like pale pansies and fade. Good girls then shut their computers. They lie down a second time, knowing there are no stars, but their eyes have adjusted to the dark, and this time, there are faint clouds. They raise up their legs and step in the air. This feels like they are walking on the sky, and that they are living in an upside-down world built exclusively for them. Good girls look like crazy dropouts.
These are the best girls you could find.
They know more than they think.
They will hear a plastic bag dragging on the ground, and get up to put that in the trash. They will go home then, and feel that nothing has changed.