My brain is tossed salad. You won’t find much sense here.

That was her life, now- she was always in the aftershocks, moving on autopilot, unhindered by the condition of her body until it became too much to bear. Only another, stronger jolt could break through, everything reducing back down to that hum that laid under her skin. She was growing tired, though, and her body was growing more and more rigid. She thought about giving in, about letting her body become wooden and heavy.

And then one night, she felt it.

[a short story]

Thoughts on snow capped cars, Clarice Lispector, and the content of my days.

So I made the website….now I gotta use it.