@harryferaray.bsky.social
Think of all the joy there is to come."
Years later he discovers Nation of Language. He feels all of it in waves, waves of joy, he remembers in school when he leaned on her and she did not flinch nor bat an eye, waves of joy.
*
#nationoflanguage #underthewater #wavesofjoy #writing #booksky
Years later he discovers Nation of Language. He feels all of it in waves, waves of joy, he remembers in school when he leaned on her and she did not flinch nor bat an eye, waves of joy.
*
#nationoflanguage #underthewater #wavesofjoy #writing #booksky
November 12, 2025 at 4:50 PM
Think of all the joy there is to come."
Years later he discovers Nation of Language. He feels all of it in waves, waves of joy, he remembers in school when he leaned on her and she did not flinch nor bat an eye, waves of joy.
*
#nationoflanguage #underthewater #wavesofjoy #writing #booksky
Years later he discovers Nation of Language. He feels all of it in waves, waves of joy, he remembers in school when he leaned on her and she did not flinch nor bat an eye, waves of joy.
*
#nationoflanguage #underthewater #wavesofjoy #writing #booksky
Was that a Beatles reference?
Yes.
We still have the Beatles but no Time?
Affirmative.
Yes.
We still have the Beatles but no Time?
Affirmative.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
Was that a Beatles reference?
Yes.
We still have the Beatles but no Time?
Affirmative.
Yes.
We still have the Beatles but no Time?
Affirmative.
What time is it with you?
Time? Time. Is. No. Longer. Here. There. Everywhere.
?!?!
Austen's handset is dark. Lifeless.
A squeeze of ice shoots down Austen's back. Austen's head hurts. His index finger inputs akin to the early neck movements of a gosling.
Time? Time. Is. No. Longer. Here. There. Everywhere.
?!?!
Austen's handset is dark. Lifeless.
A squeeze of ice shoots down Austen's back. Austen's head hurts. His index finger inputs akin to the early neck movements of a gosling.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
What time is it with you?
Time? Time. Is. No. Longer. Here. There. Everywhere.
?!?!
Austen's handset is dark. Lifeless.
A squeeze of ice shoots down Austen's back. Austen's head hurts. His index finger inputs akin to the early neck movements of a gosling.
Time? Time. Is. No. Longer. Here. There. Everywhere.
?!?!
Austen's handset is dark. Lifeless.
A squeeze of ice shoots down Austen's back. Austen's head hurts. His index finger inputs akin to the early neck movements of a gosling.
Zissous. The Eritrean goddess of the wooly hat positioned just ever so, like an upside down cup cake paper wrap sectioned in Bedlam. They are Zissous.
J-Zissous.
Yes. As you so desire.
You know so much.
Living in the future presents many answers.
J-Zissous.
Yes. As you so desire.
You know so much.
Living in the future presents many answers.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
Zissous. The Eritrean goddess of the wooly hat positioned just ever so, like an upside down cup cake paper wrap sectioned in Bedlam. They are Zissous.
J-Zissous.
Yes. As you so desire.
You know so much.
Living in the future presents many answers.
J-Zissous.
Yes. As you so desire.
You know so much.
Living in the future presents many answers.
Austen stares and what he sees is transferred to the handset. Close up on a cute girl, college age, wooly hat. Austen has seen countless numbers of these types in recent days.
What are they?
Zissous.
?
What are they?
Zissous.
?
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
Austen stares and what he sees is transferred to the handset. Close up on a cute girl, college age, wooly hat. Austen has seen countless numbers of these types in recent days.
What are they?
Zissous.
?
What are they?
Zissous.
?
His contact #m$h€ll€¥ is online, but from where Austen has no answer; the other end seems apposite. They have never met face to face nor spoken with tongues. All text. Textual relations.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
His contact #m$h€ll€¥ is online, but from where Austen has no answer; the other end seems apposite. They have never met face to face nor spoken with tongues. All text. Textual relations.
The handset vibrates on the wooden table surface. Austen quivers and breathes a sigh of relief as his handset responds to his touch. I'm still alive. He doesn't remember life before handsets. He doesn't remember life before handsets.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
The handset vibrates on the wooden table surface. Austen quivers and breathes a sigh of relief as his handset responds to his touch. I'm still alive. He doesn't remember life before handsets. He doesn't remember life before handsets.
Officetrons spread out, conservative uniforms to and fro, some run, some stand, bus line ups are accrued, others desist and chat. The tallest structures are ribbed with commercial neon for your pleasure.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
Officetrons spread out, conservative uniforms to and fro, some run, some stand, bus line ups are accrued, others desist and chat. The tallest structures are ribbed with commercial neon for your pleasure.
Seated by the window wall on the second floor, Austen stares beyond the glass, in his head he listens to track one of Trillion. The view reveals the early evening dark and the six pm arrhythmia of downtown Kawasaki city.
November 10, 2025 at 5:38 PM
Seated by the window wall on the second floor, Austen stares beyond the glass, in his head he listens to track one of Trillion. The view reveals the early evening dark and the six pm arrhythmia of downtown Kawasaki city.
The orchestra will stop playing and okasan and Hibiki will take their places and eat at the table of his secret modern city.
*
#radiohead #writing #japan #reading #creative
*
#radiohead #writing #japan #reading #creative
November 6, 2025 at 6:24 PM
The orchestra will stop playing and okasan and Hibiki will take their places and eat at the table of his secret modern city.
*
#radiohead #writing #japan #reading #creative
*
#radiohead #writing #japan #reading #creative
Mother nods below the toothpaste fish. Her spooled years understand. Hibiki the Younger watches over the table. His diorama remains the same. Untouched. The clock on the wall marches on without moving.
November 6, 2025 at 6:24 PM
Mother nods below the toothpaste fish. Her spooled years understand. Hibiki the Younger watches over the table. His diorama remains the same. Untouched. The clock on the wall marches on without moving.
Okasan turns and asks and Hibiki answers "...just thinking about Teacher." Okasan stirs the pot and her back asks so Hibiki obliges "Teacher went to a stadium concert last week. Teacher burst into tears when the singer sang 'amazed that I survived/an airbag saved my life'"
November 6, 2025 at 6:24 PM
Okasan turns and asks and Hibiki answers "...just thinking about Teacher." Okasan stirs the pot and her back asks so Hibiki obliges "Teacher went to a stadium concert last week. Teacher burst into tears when the singer sang 'amazed that I survived/an airbag saved my life'"
Words he saw printed on a wall in the art gallery by the sea, on a trip to Yokohama with sofu in sepia days. Foreign words not Japanese that have hung around like bad smells, America and Coca-Cola after '45. But my teacher is not American.
November 6, 2025 at 6:24 PM
Words he saw printed on a wall in the art gallery by the sea, on a trip to Yokohama with sofu in sepia days. Foreign words not Japanese that have hung around like bad smells, America and Coca-Cola after '45. But my teacher is not American.
At the table Hibiki stares at the bowls and the condiments and the bumpy frumpy fabric of the table mats beneath the wood carved by the once strong hands of sofu now ashes in a box through the wall. Hibiki thinks of a diorama. Modern City. Women in the Modern City.
November 6, 2025 at 6:24 PM
At the table Hibiki stares at the bowls and the condiments and the bumpy frumpy fabric of the table mats beneath the wood carved by the once strong hands of sofu now ashes in a box through the wall. Hibiki thinks of a diorama. Modern City. Women in the Modern City.
Some time later. The clocks they die.
Some time is lost, but not between brothers.
*
#johnlennon #beatles #creativewriting
Some time is lost, but not between brothers.
*
#johnlennon #beatles #creativewriting
November 6, 2025 at 5:59 PM
Some time later. The clocks they die.
Some time is lost, but not between brothers.
*
#johnlennon #beatles #creativewriting
Some time is lost, but not between brothers.
*
#johnlennon #beatles #creativewriting
We don't say much. Brothers don't need talk.
On the wet sands there are others with time pieces. A fire is lit. Flames like magicians' palms. A tiger's back wild. The fire it burns and the heat is fierce when you stand too close. My brother's hand on my shoulder pulls me back.
On the wet sands there are others with time pieces. A fire is lit. Flames like magicians' palms. A tiger's back wild. The fire it burns and the heat is fierce when you stand too close. My brother's hand on my shoulder pulls me back.
November 6, 2025 at 5:59 PM
We don't say much. Brothers don't need talk.
On the wet sands there are others with time pieces. A fire is lit. Flames like magicians' palms. A tiger's back wild. The fire it burns and the heat is fierce when you stand too close. My brother's hand on my shoulder pulls me back.
On the wet sands there are others with time pieces. A fire is lit. Flames like magicians' palms. A tiger's back wild. The fire it burns and the heat is fierce when you stand too close. My brother's hand on my shoulder pulls me back.
I breathe in and smell the soil and hear the fight of waves on shonan.
Come with me.
I notice you have all the clocks in a beaten cloth sac. Your ripped pirate ship shoulders lead me through the forever scrub of dark shapes and creepy crawly beasts. Sleep eats the village.
Come with me.
I notice you have all the clocks in a beaten cloth sac. Your ripped pirate ship shoulders lead me through the forever scrub of dark shapes and creepy crawly beasts. Sleep eats the village.
November 6, 2025 at 5:59 PM
I breathe in and smell the soil and hear the fight of waves on shonan.
Come with me.
I notice you have all the clocks in a beaten cloth sac. Your ripped pirate ship shoulders lead me through the forever scrub of dark shapes and creepy crawly beasts. Sleep eats the village.
Come with me.
I notice you have all the clocks in a beaten cloth sac. Your ripped pirate ship shoulders lead me through the forever scrub of dark shapes and creepy crawly beasts. Sleep eats the village.
How prophetic?
Sorry, pathetic?
No. Prophetic.
Like money?
No, more like God talking. Prophet.
-
Funny the things that stay with you, stay inside of you.
Oh, how you see her sadly?
Yes. Spotlit. In a suburban street. Saving kid buffalo.
*
#astrudgilberto #creativewriting
Sorry, pathetic?
No. Prophetic.
Like money?
No, more like God talking. Prophet.
-
Funny the things that stay with you, stay inside of you.
Oh, how you see her sadly?
Yes. Spotlit. In a suburban street. Saving kid buffalo.
*
#astrudgilberto #creativewriting
November 6, 2025 at 5:55 PM
How prophetic?
Sorry, pathetic?
No. Prophetic.
Like money?
No, more like God talking. Prophet.
-
Funny the things that stay with you, stay inside of you.
Oh, how you see her sadly?
Yes. Spotlit. In a suburban street. Saving kid buffalo.
*
#astrudgilberto #creativewriting
Sorry, pathetic?
No. Prophetic.
Like money?
No, more like God talking. Prophet.
-
Funny the things that stay with you, stay inside of you.
Oh, how you see her sadly?
Yes. Spotlit. In a suburban street. Saving kid buffalo.
*
#astrudgilberto #creativewriting
I remember at the very end of the school dance. I was seventeen. We were half way through June. Some time before midnight - our school days dissolving like the sugar in this coffee - she said to us "stay on the pavement!" We were like a herd of buffalo and had strayed on to the main road.
-
-
November 6, 2025 at 5:55 PM
I remember at the very end of the school dance. I was seventeen. We were half way through June. Some time before midnight - our school days dissolving like the sugar in this coffee - she said to us "stay on the pavement!" We were like a herd of buffalo and had strayed on to the main road.
-
-