It just rolled down the hill, no way to catch up, no mind to consider it. Instead he just stood without thinking, pockets in pants, blood trickling down his neck.
It happens more than he likes to admit. Thankfully as his neighbour carried his head back up the hill, fingers in holes like a bowling bowl, he didn’t have to.
When you look at the screen, what do you see? When you choose your locks, what goes through your head?
Andrew, Joe, Amy, Natalie, William, Louise, Rob, Maureen, Alec, June. These are our lives.
It continues to rotate in my dreams, glimmering within the fog.
This disco just won’t stop.
23 days in the wild. Found in a shed, now she’s back in her bed.