Waiting patiently in the flood of creeping headlights. Orange peony iced tea, and scalding jasmine. Sipped with the slow concentration of lip-reading. A tired and corroded air unit struggles on and off. Smoothing cracks in the conversation. Flinty laughter as a flimsy lock. People shuffle in and out, scraping hardwood with wrought iron. It's all perfectly sterile and fantastically boring. Feeble goodbyes, and then the convenient rejection of vanishing tricks. It seems a PhD is not enough to help with soul-sorting. Overruled. I said overruled.
12:14 a.m. - 2019-10-10
Recent entries:
Librum Infinitum - 2019-10-30
Locomotions - 2019-10-23
Some Fall Moments - 2019-10-23
That Blessed Arrangement - 2019-10-16
Silvertree - 2019-10-16
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