Iris Diaries: Dressed Naked
From Berlin Memoirs
I’m standing in a subway car, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers, one hand clutching the bar like it’s the only thing holding me to Earth. It’s hot, sticky, and suffocating - and, as always, a couple of assholes are staring me down like I’m dessert at a buffet they’ve already paid for. Can’t say I blame them entirely - short white hair, a tight shirt that doesn’t hide much, and legs that get way more attention than they deserve. But let’s not pretend they don’t recognize me.
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About the Creator
Iris Obscura
Do I come across as crass?
Do you find me base?
Am I an intellectual?
Or an effed-up idiot savant spewing nonsense, like... *beep*
Is this even funny?
I suppose not. But, then again, why not?
Read on...
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