One-hundred-plus degree afternoons, heavy with the scent of rotting vegetation. Shattered slate piled into a lakeshore. A phalanx of ducks paddle by in silence. Bare feet moving across a membrane of silt. Filthy brown water, repulsively warm, and refreshingly wet, saturating a tattered pair of shorts. A tangle of abandoned fishing line hiding an uncounted number of snags. A giant hole in the water, black and disturbed. A fitting place to nap for a lifetime.
11:07 p.m. - 2020-06-24
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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