‘each glitch stranger than the last,’ she said, scrolling through pages & pages of thoughts fired off like geometric pyrotechnics. highbrow on the off chance.
encroaching on restless perusing these rituals embedded in text messages and proclamations of love shy of fifty seconds because less than a minute is all you really need to get your point straight across. thirty gigabytes in a month guaranteed.
vaudeville is gone but its villians remain | are you urged to forfeit everything for aweworthy amenities knowing the responsibility falls on fickle destiny in invisible spaces?