Silence creeps like shadows. Amid the noise lies the soft murmur of pints clinking and stories half-spoken. I remember, I disremember, catching the echo in morse, tracing back the present with hesitant fingers. Threads pull the tapestry taut yet loose enough for light to filter through each dot and dash. - .- -.- . / -.. . -.- .-.. .. -. .
Trace paths in focus, breathe into the terminals of connection. Zig-zag fly between now and cosmos; dimensions fold in line
Midway Crossings