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(henry roy) thanks, l

i have these heavily garment-infused dreams. in the first one, i'm in winter balenciaga, with glossed black and red latex leggings in those gargantuan clod boots, an enormous leather round jacket, running across an empty street at night only to be traveling on my knees because i can't feel my feet. next, i'm wrapping a shemagh around my neck on freezing cold sidewalk, i hear someone say "another one of those?!" and i feel slightly out of fashion but comfortably concealed in my fabric armor. maybe i am more comfortable enclosed within folds of fabric, hidden and either diligently prepared or paralyzed by materials that substitute for my weak flesh. maybe my clothes are my uniform and give me protection.