Where to begin? The fingers twitch across the keyboard, stirred thoughts aquatic and elusive. Could it be said that every choice, every blink, leads down whispering hallways?
The bacon sizzles in relentless formation, a line of crispy soldiers waiting for toast, waiting for binds of thousands in each bit, and yet the cat does not salivate, she dreams of skies.
Rain skipping off pavement, like children on marbles, whitecaps in the alleyway dance, oh to dance! And the alarm clock, rotating tribal circle in uniform of its mechanical praise.
Infinite possible. A crossword with kerning at a wobbling 30 degree angle, prolifically unfinished lines speckled with specks of ink – Ford must’ve been a sorcerer in an age now forgotten.
Consider the dust, motes spinning whimsically, checked by no eye, bound by no rules. It’s the universe sneezing, cosmos particle orchestra, conductor unseen, maestro perhaps resident at the nearest diner.
Paths extend, paths contract. Wardrobe Awakening || Fractal Gainful Distortions || Nightland Epiphany