I drew a straight, red line clean through my own name. It had longtime been listed there. The world in my fist no more.
We have arrived at a terminal moraine. Unprepared, even after ten years with a smart phone. No stile or kissing gate in sight.
You experiment with a brand-new look, apply fresh make-up. I pass your instruments, but do not know what they are called.
The view from the back window is almost the match (I say) of the one before. Even if it falls away to a ditch, not a river.
Splashdown! An echo of fallen debris. We pick out what is clean and useful. Our new infrastructure – durable as a glass hammer.
Why is the light on a timed circuit? Every five minutes, we are plunged into darkness, and one of us must switch it back on.
These constant interruptions. I am layering moussaka (made from leftovers) into a dish. Is this a thing? 8 / 10 respondents say “yes”.
iii. 2024
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