What you’ll find here are traces, thoughts, fractures, and gaps. Not a finished picture, but a fabric woven from attempts, memories, and possibilities. Maybe you’ll spot a pattern. Maybe you’ll get lost. Maybe you’ll find yourself. Or something entirely different.
The night devours the clock, and I let it happen. The streets shine, wet from rain, as if someone had just scrubbed the stage clean. The neon flickers as if it cannot believe it is still burning. I take a deep breath: smoke. Perfume. Cold sweat and cheap gin. To my...
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