Laid-back bigots and languorous intellects commit casual genocide hand in clammy hand, shoulder to slouched shoulder.
1.7.2
Talking heads chirped casually empty, mid-morning business melodies concerning market futures, commodity markets, and the futures market.
1.7.1
Inside, Mo’s house smelled like stale coffee and department store musk, and it all slid about like soupy ice cream at the bottom of the bowl, stirred by the forced hot air.
1.6.29
“Fuck, it’s ten after.” Addy set down the comb lovingly and waved. “Penny too, she’s pissed already. Thanks, I had a nice time.”
Blank Banshee | Blank Banshee 0
I shattered my ears to learn to hear with my eyes at a hypaethral rave on the boundary of our sectorial revolutions. Tight-roping, I stood on the zero point at the precipice of the temple’s blue chiffon floor, waving. Others froze about, moving in spits and buffering chirps, skipping space, idols fixed to every discrete
Blank Banshee | Blank Banshee 0 Read More »
1.6.28
“My dear, please,” Sharon said sharply, “we need to end this, it’s eating into my lunch break—”