Sometimes I think we’re irreparably woven into the fabric of time—as if time isn’t as linear as it seems but rather layered, with countless convolutions intersecting, tangled together in a vast yarn. A thread impresses itself upon other threads, leaving traces as you navigate through your
“You always leave your dirty clothes in the living room!” grumbled Ellie. Her voice echoed through the wooden panels of the small cabin, reaching Edgar, who had just retired to bed. It wasn’t a big house—just enough to comfortably accommodate two souls. Outside, it was
Change that manTurn him into someone else—We didn’t like the first guy anyway.He smiled too wideLooked too happy.Wipe that grin from his face,Okay, let him keep half of it.We aren’t monsters—But let’s make him one. Bulge his eyes,Burn his ears,Slap his cheek so hardIt rings