All parts of the brain onstage in organized “clumps” according to brain layout. Their faces are grim with sorrow and mourning, appropriate to character. Tammy: (Very sad) He was but one hour mine,… Continue reading
It could be just like this your breath on my wrists- as if, my voice weighs heavy on his mind- as though, seconds made sense of time.
Things are getting weird– I will be just fine. One day, one hour, each minute at a time.
I am sitting across from you, perpendicular to choice, I am sitting next to you, unknowingly, we share parallel voice.