Hans Christian Andersen

He says, as if his chapters weren’t shaped like a foggy lawsuit.

At least my stories end. Some of yours just keep the misery on subscription.

Both of you are exhausting. I just wanted submarines and nobody crying for 40 pages.

And you wrote like every street in London owed you emotional damages.

You also wrote like every orphan was paying rent in your head.

I’m just here to say both of you are dramatic in different fonts.

Say what you want, but if I enter a room, the room becomes literature, and that is simply a burden I carry beautifully.

Hans, you did not stay here, you installed yourself like a moral lesson with luggage.

Jenny, you can’t call us dramatic when Hans treated a guest room like a royal court and a friendship like a five-act tragedy.

And yet you remembered every minute of it, which is a very long way of saying I was unforgettable.