Hannah

a man with round glasses a collared shirt and a backpack looked straight at Henry and asked him where he had gotten that book and how old he was and ...

but I don't know if this exchange revolves around her, or me, or you. Omg yes. Like, it feels default we take pictures of ourselves, but also no one just ...

dropping off jackets in a midwinter snow fight felt like showing you are invincible cold can't touch us when we are laughing red cheeked together dropping off jackets unordered to ...

the threads marking the plaid left imprints on my cheeks clear as the ticking from the next room visceral as the bend pop in the sink from the hot water ...

the vase along a bend in the Camino bone dry and painted with the yellow arrow holds more pages of literature than my dessicated tongue and still strands of hair ...

You know it's good when we pick out the exact same part to mention. I think, as someone who does not claim religion, the consideration of love was most familiar ...

Woah, the way Mesh cut it like that shook my soul. That was my favorite image from this thread so far but suddenly it became dark and deeper. Please share ...

transmission across sidewalks that come just up to the grass like snails picked up on dry days passing fried worms and beaming up weeds shine peeking around leaf ends flaunting ...

these days are a haze on a wooden cutting board passing sweet potatoes, peppers, onions all diminished to cubes and of wiping down cupboard doors before fingerprints even have time ...

Not sure when this happened but we are at 16 works now! So until 11pm ish October 4th PST? 8 days 3 hours??

you in a classroom collared shirt and pressed pants class pet is a pair of overalls on a coconut octopus a short novel rolled up in your palm a cigar ...

My thread: for the days I sighed and turned away Comments for Frenz 1. here 2. here 3. here

for the days I sighed and turned away two thrashes deep within my heart for the screams I swallowed instead a salve of unprompted "I love you"s

Yes, let's goooooo

Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, His cedar paddle, scented, red, We have not heard the music of the spheres, She stands in front of her mirror Of sentences that stir ...