smiling … smiling's a bit like riding a bicycle on a lake, all that wishful thinking plastered on your face for the whole word to see -- and they all fucking know how stupid you look. it's there, even deep in your throat, dripping from your lips like holy water from a babe's brow : somewhat of a miracle begged into existence.
one would say there's nothing to smile at. not out here. and that person would be damn fucking right : happiness (here)(??)(back home) is like trying to feed yourself on a belt. you're gnawing at nothing, kid. but there's something humorous about a bunch of teen girls trying to wash away last days' sweat, while the sun continues on shining above their heads. like. maybe it's not miraculous but they're alive and when van pushes a wave at mari, who retaliates with a goddamn tsunami, well. let's just say nat wouldn't be able to drown out that smile even if she wanted to.
TAISSA : what are you smiling at?
eyes go to taissa while she scrubs a bit more carefully her muddy knees. "things could be a lot shittier, is what i'm smiling at." her smile drops like a tear into the sea, only her sea is a lake and her smile is naught but a thin line of faked boredom. "dude, you got dirt on your neck." good one, nat, camera's back on @ladyintree so the audience's eyes don't have to remain on you. good fucking one. she points at her throat, somewhere above the artery. "right here."