Madness string 94592

Random mermaid
I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer - and what trees and seasons smelled like - how people looked and walked and smelled, even the memory of odors is very rich.
One day I come home from work. Stop by the kitchen to grab a bite. And there he was. In all his Glory. Crazy Italian Guy, sitting by the table. He glanced at me shortly with madness in is eyes and got back to his business. I realise there's a little pile of white powder by his side. 'Ok, so the guy's doing coke. Explains a lot,' I thought, innocently. Oh no, not at all. Crazy Italian Guy was not doing coke. What he was doing was cutting up a newspaper in an obsessive manner until it turned to actual dust. A whole newspaper. In tiny piles. For hours on end.