englishA collection of 38 posts

When the clouds gather in their covens, when the rain drums its feral rhythm, when lightning scrawls its sigils on the dark— the storm calls. You would choose the stale-air…

We swap hyperlink chatter for chain-mail clatter, thumb-sparks peppering cheap denim with ember freckles. No mission statement—only steel on strop or stone, queer clang leaking from the shoebox flat like pirated midnight radio.…

They crow over corpses, grin from gutted homes…

Author’s note: this is written about, and contains very minor spoilers about, Quill & Still by Aaron Sofaer ... A plaque might as well glint sly advice: “Relieve and believe,” implied by every fixture— ...…

I clear the drain before it clogs, snip stray strands from your clothes when you aren’t here. I check the tin of tea you forgot, gather the curls your…