everything else: 27/03/2025, 15:29
dear internet,
looking through frosted glass. going up the stairs on tiptoe. the part of the dream where you've figured out that you're dreaming but haven't yet woken up. turning back to catch a glimpse of something that's only just slid out of view. the tulip turned towards the sun and open. the tulip bent over itself, its leaves flat across the checkered tablecloth. last leg of a car trip, last one hundred metres of the long-distance race. standing in the rapidly darkening dusk listening to the call of a bird we couldn't recognise, couldn't spot, although we knew it was right there, a few feet away from us, growing louder by the second. breaking the yarn, dropping the stitch, pulling the wool too tight, grasping the wrong needle, unraveling, unraveling, unraveling. the sea swallowing my footprints. the hoopoe on the other side of the sari. the door that was broken, replaced, and moved one floor up, to frame something different from before.
love,
t