outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


07.03.23


While walking in the woods, my left hand tingled, as if stung. All the lines on my palm were livid red. What was burning: head and heart, marriage and money, fate and life. The lines itched too, as if they were shifting into a new map of my future.





<<

hosted by DiaryLand.com

real time web analytics