진정하시오, 목소리에 날이 서 있는 그대.

O, C was sensitive, in an irritable kind of way, and, having an extremely acute sense of his surroundings, had the potential to be a most volatile prick, especially in the opening hours of his waking life. D was more messy, and noisier, one to litter with his traces and fill with sound the space he occupied, as if oblivious to their effects on the world, if not to demonstrate inflection of some kind that betrayed person freedom—something libertarian maybe. They lived together, sharing a two-room studio with shared entrance, which also happened to be the only path to the washroom.

G retained a certain elusive beauty that no camera seemed able to capture.

We had founded Eden of our own, our haven for corrupted innocence, around a well of joyous tears with which we anointed each other. Of secrets where nothing but our memory alone could gain access, not even God. I remember, how i kicked the trunk of a sycamore tree to release rain from its foliage and shower over us, how her face split open into a wild smile then—all teeth and gum—in surprise and ecstatic wonder, mirroring my own maybe. That smile, all of this, a memory that is now solely my own, explodes into millions of pixels, and I'm rent in all directions. I feel so dizzy I can hardly lie...

Strawberry dye

his spunk tastes like yours, but sweeter

With his face pinned against the ground, all he could see was a trickle of blood forming a pool beside his head. The sun seemed to melt into his wounds, setting them on fire.