When we got back to the compound and my service returned, I saw 13 unread messages from my usually impassive friend and felt that old immediate need, that rush to respond. But first I had a smoke. They were pissed because of an edit I made to their last post...
Aluminum & Ash
Odious here, calling out from between the micro blinds. This is the first post for the serial I’m dropping, and I don’t know if it’s Covid or some other vampiric suck on my energy, but I’ve been dragging through every sentence.
Rip Van Winkle
It was an ambivalent energy that was fucking with me—a darkness that didn’t fit into language. It’s that which was there before and that which will be there after we're finished with words.