Portents & Twine
The unrooted. The faceless. The darkness without form. Forms without substance. The turmoil throwing her into a state of agitation.
Explicit signs. Signs without meaning. Warning signs. All was a mass of confusion she wallowed in—these nascent hours in the south. An unmoored city.
Cities that would soon drown under surging water. Analogues to the distant cities in dust. Something had to give.
“Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself in.”
— John Cage