Squalor
-There is nothing worse than too late. Five o’clock in the morning rummaging through the squalor in your room. Blinds drawn, darkness keeps a residence there. There was a note you wrote yourself one morning as a thought occurred, it had something to do with something perhaps you wanted to remember. Sometimes you write notes to try to forget. “It’s funny,” you think, your hands disappeared into the littered white, little red ink scrawls floating like the debris of a wrecked voyage. You couldn’t find a thing, even if you were trying to. That’s why you write things down to […]