write a last will: there are breadcrumbs to be left under the topaz blue of the oversized sofa, that passed from one lover to another a chain of grievances and fur from new pets there are old leather volumes in the nook claimed by siblings living just above the hole
It seems to come to me only when I am quite far from it - that is, when the chances of my trying to tame it are next to nothing - so that what I am left with is trails - just scratches on a surface, jitters of a tight
I've loved you like a conqueror now I want to learn to love you like smoke wafting up into a room full of fog like a log in a fire, surface by slow flaking surface into a new and energetic form I want to learn to do the work of
the stack is in the batter - go in with broad bread hook holding on the left, giving on the right carbon form of flagrant rite - clamoring, harboring freight train harmonies - monotone, polychrome - late clattering of argument cups, starch, and cloth go once, come go back and
"Shoot a web3 developer" – the speaker, my acquaintance Ella, is being provocative, but it touches a nerve. It's day 3 of MCH2022, one of the northwestern european hacker camps (along with Chaos Camp, Electromagnetic Field, BornHack) which used to be in a four-year rotation, but are now all trying to