Tuesday

I am in a cafe again.
I am watching people.
I am enjoying them from afar.
I am by myself.
A proper derive is supposed to be done with others, but I like being by myself.
It feels easier to go on adventures, to remain open.
Maybe Guy Debord was a chicken, or maybe he was just practical.
It's safer in numbers.
Anyways, here I am alone during the day at a cafe with a sketchbook.
I'm listening for tidbits of conversations that can help me to write this loveletter to Montreal.
While I'm waiting for something to happen, I draw this girl.