TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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The interminably wet weather, the quick darkness, the incessant news of the missing and the dead - all invoke a melancholy that is hard to shake off, because it's composed of the ghosts of friendships withered by time and distance, the words never exchanged, all the forgotten moments of affinity. It's All Souls Day, and I'm thinking of too many people.