Judy is olive. A pit, all love. One is pleased. Judy is manipulative. Hymns. And haws? One is not afforded. To hear? Listen. Judy is dead in a grocery store (haunt me, please).
Jim is thin. I film. The film is about origami. Him. Waiting room, blue lips. Everyone is yellow. The camera does not explain itself.
Doètle trims her skin’s polyps like stubborn mustache hairs. She collects them into her palms. She pours them into tea she forgot at the store shit and the bread too fuck.