She tries to rinse the clouds from her eyes with sand-strewn intent. Two weeks of absence feels tantamount to Treblinka. She wrestles with a noisy apartment and unplayable netcode stutter. The minutes stretch into a tiny taffy infinity. Every hour a long, black bar. Highlighted and reinforced by her own neotenous epiphanies, and the second voice of the abandoner.
8:24 p.m. - 2015-12-02
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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