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.
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