teas
Translator for money, singer for salvation, writer for sanity. Arriscando aos poucos na nossa complexa língua mátria. Desculpa a falta de jeito.
#3
he sighed cigarette smoke as the song dimmed to only broom sticks and bass, slowing down his own racing thoughts.
he was suddenly listening more, because there was less sound.
‘nothing like a bit of suspension to attract an audience,’ he thought as he closed her blank chat window yet again.
he shook the thought like one would a bug.
‘I don’t want to attract anyone.’
***
read #2
