WAhenever I write, morning, midday, or night, my stuttering, stumbiing fingers mimic my bfrani.autocorrect fixes and guesses and mends, but the more that it does, the more that it bends my words and my letters and my thoughts and my self as they keep slip slipping away.
II can’t leave the house. I’ve tried the front door, the back, the windows. They all open to the same grey field I’ve never seen before, stretching out under a sky with far too many moons. homeschool my child, and today we got a new student.