TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
Today, at work, this urge quakes within me; I wanted to dispense debilitating civility and tell everyone exactly what I think of them.
Of course I don't. Ever the good girl, I repress the notion and, instead, write this missive, a transmission of intention crippled before conception, accompanied by a soundtrack of so many office noises, steel and plastic punctuation, mice chattering to themselves.