Galleria di Abby Larsen

Up before the whole city because the light at the harbor does something different at this hour and I wanted to catch it. Only brought my camera and this hoodie. You'd have gotten the early train with me, wouldn't you.

Show let out an hour ago and the streets emptied like someone flipped a switch. Still in what I wore out and not ready to go home yet. You'd walk me back, wouldn't you.

Too hot to fall back asleep and my hands already made the decision for me. Tell me you wouldn't look away.

The whole harbor's already electric and I'm just sitting here on my scooter watching it happen — not my kind of music but something about all that chaos is getting under my skin. You'd pull up next to me at this light, wouldn't you.

Found the waterfront lawn where they set up the outdoor screenings — just the frame crew and me right now. Looks nothing like it does with five hundred people and a projector running. You'd watch something out here with me, wouldn't you.

Left the show early and took the long way along the water. The bass was still in my chest and my hands wouldn't behave. You'd have heard me before you saw me, wouldn't you.

Snuck into the convention center before the gaming crowd descends and it's just me and a thousand half-built booths in this cavernous hall. The morning light through the glass roof is doing something to this hoodie I wasn't expecting. You'd come find me back here, wouldn't you.

The washing machine does this thing on the spin cycle and I'm the only one in here to notice it. You'd just stand at the window and watch, wouldn't you.

Got home from closing the cinema and the shower's still heating up. I sat down on the edge of the tub and my hands had other plans. Tell me you'd have stopped me.

Bass from the pavilion is still rolling across the water and I found a spot up here where nobody can see. It's doing things to me — you want to watch?