Into grid. Grid, emptying.
Into grid. Grid, emptying. Read More »
El Jazzy Chavo | Echoes From Another Cosmogony
I slid down onto a stool perched at a dusty flattop. Little bits of star skin and nebula sprinkled across the black gloss receding out past the edge of the interspace and disappearing in a linear convergence. Nursing a spiked juice my tongue inhaled. Echoes from another cosmogony drifted in my ears and down my
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1.7.15
“I’m sorry, you’re right, I should go away for a little, give you space and let you be—I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”
1.7.14
“Look at the way you tell me,” she said, “what it is and what it isn’t. I like it, but no, it’s not right—can you let me breathe?”
1.7.13
“Come now dear.” Mo released from the tentative embrace. “You must know what it is. We can work through anything.”