1.5.4
She fidgeted with her earrings, suspended uncomfortably in the liminal space before confirmation, and then changed them again.
Dirty Art Club | Gardens
Is there any room for art up here? Sure, you can go to the museum simulations, see the photos of galleries of photos of paintings of some person. There are places people play art with pictures, dance with words in poetic caverns born empty from the void. But honestly, this is no place to stage
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1.5.2
She glanced at the full body mirror in the walk-in and opened her phone where in the passing black instant she saw a mascara smear, so she checked the mirror again before discovering the cracked flecks in the black glass had deceived her.
I hit all the usual spots
looking for some art, any art, discovering mostly nothing. Instead, I took an exclusive wire to a broadcast from the center of the brutality. People are eating babies? Nothing good comes from Earth anymore. Oh my how weary I’ve grown of words. Henceforth, the image will speak for itself. I’ll throw in a little interspatial
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1.5.1
Evelyn dressed in the proper order: underwear, bottoms, tops, socks, then off with the socks, changed the slacks, slipped into flats and put earrings in, twice.
1.4.8
Addy stepped back out onto the floor, into the spectacle of the camera lens, now lost on the staging floor where the mirror recedes and he disappeared behind the labyrinthine constellation of minds veiled behind eyes.
Flamingosis | Pleasure Palette
I lifted up the makeshift stairs onto the disk as it started to spin. Walking over to an empty seat I tripped on a crease in the platform. I strapped in and the saucer began to whirl. Where the other seats were I saw nothing but windows, and out the windows the entire skyline of
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