Life has been sandpaper, recently, abrasive but shaping a raw refinement, and I hope I’ve been learning in some subconscious element a new wavelength to tune in the face of deceptively still waters.

Everything will eventually serve you, whether a wet clap on clay or a stab through bitter porcelain; the ones that don’t kill you linger. And, before long, make themselves useful.

I’ve become a little attached to my apocalypse rats…