I want to delete my account and only follow you;
I want you to be my algorithm.
Sincerely,
up late, tired of scrolling
This morning the crisp air is disturbed by the kiskadee song, a neighbour taking out the trash, a rooster crowing, a weed wacker off in the distance. Inside my father stirs and mutters to himself about this or that as he gets ready for work. This morning I am sober and…
Am I as old as I think?
I drifted in and out of sleep with her tossing and turning next to me in the early hours of the morning. I dreamt of her taking…
We lay there and alive all night and I didn’t know for how long, or what was the time, save for the birds that had just awoken. The light was dim but at some point the birds that had just awoken were singing. They began singing to the world, as they do all over the world just before dawn, and then I knew for…
To write about nothing is impossible.
The land the sea the sun the sky.
Life and death and birth and destruction.
In August, the purple heathers grow wide and wild and free in the southern Scottish uplands. The Clyde, in its infancy, snakes swiftly by, in a hurry to grow up and flow down to the lowlands, where it will slow, and eventually the sea.
The room was small and well appointed and on the second floor. He would be there for at least a month, but he couldn’t be sure…