you called from the airplaine. My phone was growing inside the seaweed and I was liying on the road painting my hands blue, yellow and white waiting for someone to offer me a job (in the film industry). You called from the airplane. You sounded far. You were. You were in the air. You sounded strange. You said you are with  a girl. I said, yes, I know, with that girl of yours. You paused. I said, don't pause. Then I paused. I asked: is she your girl? You said yes. I dropped the phone in the seaweed.