20. February 2020
Saliva starts to form a big gulp in your throat. Thick lines flickering in front of your eyes. Pupils are following the white and dark spaces formulating comprehension. Like a perfect rhythm hammering inside of your forehead, the combination of space and line start creating sense in the cracks of your temporal lobes. Words are passing through the body like rain sinking into the sun-dried soil. Unfolding sensations keep dripping onto surface. Your wrist starts hurting, ink running low, sweat down forehead while the words start pouring out of every corner like rats leaving a sinking ship. Maddening capriciousness.