About

I was born on the fringe. I grew up past it. A nowhere kind of place. I always knew I wasn’t part of it. Or of time. Or of anything.

I dwell in a village. I look for what holds on. There is no comfort. Only what’s left over. The light is keen. It slices. The shadows stretch long. Everything is coming apart. But it’s not over yet.

Sometimes I go to other places. Only the ones in ruins. Which is almost all of them. The world crumbling down. And me just watching.