I walk to you after school along that rolling A-road. Turkish kebab shop after Car repair shop after Japanese supermarket. Summer stretching between me and that moment. 6 days a week I'll sweep that floor. A day's sawdust, a life's work. Implements in families on the wall or filed away in drawers waiting for tomorrow. Close the door behind us and you tell me this merchant town is lit up just for us. Like dreaming with eyes open we corral a grandeur that would never be ours. What everyone wants now is beyond perfection. Brand. New. Satisfaction collapsing between you and that moment. Watch enough unboxing videos and you’ll see what I mean. Peel back the plastic. To you I give the first touch. That's what you bought, the light on my face as I lie here. On a shelf, in a drawer or in your pocket is not throwing something out. Throwing something out is the act of dropping something. It falls. You let it go. Hold on Hackney