You know, man, I see you running across the street all the time. Running over there to that house and staring at that giant plant in the front yard. You stare at it for minutes and let the leaves gently stroke your tiny body. And then you dive into it nose first. I see you inhale the scent of that plant intensely.
Man, I used to think you were just a weirdo. But then I figured it out.
You’re gonna miss that plant when you go.
I mean, I have no clue how old you are man, but you love the way that plant smells. You love the way that it makes you feel and all the memories you have chasing live shit in and out of there.
I get it, you know?
Well, I want you to know that you’re not alone with those kind of things, man. I do that shit too. Like in bike shops. People’ve tried to kick me out of bike shops for violently inhaling the air, man.
I’ll bet you’ve never been in one but, man, there is nothing better than the smell of a bike shop. Rubber and grease. Age. It’s wonderful.
I’ll take you to one sometime. Before I go.
BLONDE ON BLONDE 