in this (my) neighborhood pt. 75

What I’m Reading:

Our dried voices, when 
We whisper together 
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass 

— T.S. Eliot / “The Hollow Men”

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About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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