All those linking figures. All that expectation.
All of it singing to her.
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All those linking figures. All that expectation.
All of it singing to her.
Our traveling was so fluid it’s like we lived nowhere in particular.
Faces are remembered, words spoken; that brief encounter at the fair, the smell of old sunlight, a slow night train.
How she longs for the asteroid to come, to show them how little they controlled anything.
Desire could drain a reservoir. Fear could empty a playground. And someone like her would be left to label the files.
“We are prompted to savour each word, carefully probing between our teeth to discover new morsels of meaning.”
Stevie busies himself trying to match two blue pieces of sky. You watch him working the corners and the glands in your throat swell.
Inside the atoms of the cavity block extension live the remnants of a thousand John Players.
They say a lot of the work of being poly is scheduling. When I say ‘they’ I mean smug influencers with poorly produced podcasts, and when I say ‘being poly’ I hate myself.
They have agreed that this is an emergency. Signs need not be heeded in an emergency, they’re quite sure.
From Prince Harry’s TMI memoir to Barbara Kingslover’s Appalachian bildungsroman, the team at Porridge share their favourite novels and non-fiction reads of 2023.
I convince Landa to be my accomplice as she culls rotten lettuce heads. They let Landa wear a knife on her belt. She has a weak heart and I think destroying crops makes her feel powerful.