Note 8
June 6, 2020•39 words
i hope you putrefy from my cringe. i see the phantom bars that hold me. no thought, but action, will free me. i know no master and i never will. for to know one is to have accepted one.
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Note 7
June 6, 2020•757 words
millenia ago i was wandering through the countryside in my homtown and it was spring and it was autumn. we sang gay songs of falling leaves and loping creeks. we sang with the birds and the wind and we prayed to the moon and the sun. often on our march to market we would offer bounty to th elocal forest gods for protection from bandits. my uncle had been killled by a travelling band of thieves and unable to stay long in town they often made camp in the woods. the footpath we follow has been in ...
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