We
[…] Punch in, punch out; as the weary depart; you are alert on the headset; she is shifting packages among conveyors, up, down, across slides the latte. Clinkety clink go the coins […]
Self-Concept Commutative Telegrams
[…] Elements stack and align, each of our peptides has different things to say
In shade of gloaming shadow, the Piskies prepare the tricks for They […]
Iris of the babbling brook Loquacia
[…] – a shot in the dark you say? Why how singular! How fine! I never thought of it! Just a simple lass […]
The Set of Modernistic Identities
[…] We say ‘hi how are you’ and ‘im good’ and ‘thatll be seven fifty-one’ and ‘how was your weekend’. Occasionally we say ‘terrible’ instead of fine, but mostly we lie. […]
The Dealer of the Cards and the Windows Between Us
[…] While the both of us and the rest were all locked up, ‘freedom’ spoke its little voice, how we had all been wasting her for years and years beyond years. While the people were not of a mind to travel before, yet locked up travel called to them when they were trapped. While they’d never been of a mind for re-creations of the world all shiny new, yet the little voices began to insist to them on synthesis, ever and over, night after night. While they’d never taken to improvisation, liking everything to be all planned and routinized and automated, yet with the options radically reduced, a lack of scripted interactions forced them into confrontations. […]
Lost in Mist 