Scentless Honey
This is what's become of me, Roxy
Years later, after that September evening
in Moszkva tér, when Carly brought the wine
and somehow I came back looking for you
Sick. Sick. Sick.
The fulcrum point was not Iryna Zarutska, and it wasn’t Charlie Kirk. The fulcrum point was the way that different factions of unwell people are rationalizing their acceptance of – or even satisfaction with – undeniable human tragedy: murder.
I'm so very sorry...
So sorry to bother you, but it happened again, only days later. The fugue state.
Up on the Gellért Hill for my morning sun today.
Sunlight and Mustard Gas
I’ve been going to the park every morning, first thing, new routine. I was listening to two scientists talk about the effect sunlight has
Rain on Sunday or About The Work
A trip to Sweden, a finished novel, and some wildly expensive oysters...