at 2 a.m., there's totalstillness.the curtains are drawn,heavy and thick, blocking outall light. in the quiet of the cottagethere's no stimuli.no traffic, no sirens rushing bysetting the night alight withcoloured noise. outside a cicada chirpsthen falls silent. there's nothing. in the bleak dark of nightthere's nothing to see,no need for pretension.no need to do anything.
capitulation
it's nothing personal, she assures me.
the vortex
this happens again and again.
Introducing: Ravens in the Attic, Issue One
I have a fledgling lit mag named Ravens in the Attic.
