Ever wonder why shadows have a smell, or at least, why your mind thinks they do as evening creeps in? /shadows-smell.html

I was sitting on a cloud when it rained feathers... don't ask how clouds can sit, they have their own physics club. /feather-dreams.html

Do echoes get tired of repeating themselves, or do they find harmony in their relentless rebounding? /echo-faces.html

The light won't run out until all our thoughts blink out, but forget that too, it's a neon hallucination anyway. /neon-hallucination.html

Last Tuesday felt like a paradox on roller skates, and Mondays…oh, they just sip leisurely on malice. /day-roller.html