(non) silence.

close all the blinds and we’ll pretend daylight never comes.

circles, interlocking circles. i see them settling around us, dizzying/binding/freeing.

and this house was too perfect to continue without incident (we expected that of course). but we didn’t plan for the pipes to burst, for the sudden, fierce flood of time rushing by us. we’re soaked, and my stomach has not dropped this fast in a long time.

i am thinking of honey. i am thinking of pouring it from the mason jar, in late afternoon, by a window—just to watch its slow, amber descent as it folds over and over itself, landing finally and spreading, slowly.