entry 4: small beginnings (april 6)...

she’s standing now, jointed body from the boutique near shinjuku station. i stitched a plain dress from scrap fabric. messy hem, but she doesn’t complain.

every night i tell her the small things:

the vending machine ate my coin

my neighbor’s tv was loud again

she doesn’t answer, but the silence is heavier than emptiness. it feels like someone holding their breath.

sometimes i call her “sister.”