two hours later, i am ushered out of the colony. a menagerie of unfriendly sounds trilled in the cold ostralian night. that’s fine. it’s the familiar sounds that worry me.
the psuedomoon glimmered on the roof of my fancy little car. metallic and beaten, like an old lucky dime kept around out of sentimentality. that’s what it was. couldn’t get rid of it. can’t get close to others, being who i am. can get close to a car. funny how that works.