You're five-six-seven-eight-nine years old. You're running with scraped knees and a stick retrieved from a mossy bank. Your mom worries...

I see people where they are not. The first fragment was Hannah in the body of a girl with red hair and olive skin. I stopped walking in...

The sky is surely collapsing. The rolling maelstrom of man-made thunder is constant, never stopping. There is no more blue up in the sky...