The humidifier burbled away in the corner and I stamped the sticky February slush off my desert boots and onto her Chat Noir doormat. It was the oddest place for a reading, an albino’s dorm room. I met her in Anthro and rumour had it that this enormous blancmange of a woman had the power, a peaked seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. She settled back onto her tiny bed and peeled bits of skin off her cankle. I handed her $20 and cut the cards. Holding them nose-distance from her eyes she told me that I would die young.
Image taken from Echostains.
Mei' Autozzhe' un' isch! - A week of vibrancy. The carousel was closed (who has ever heard of such a thing?!). A small boy and I pressed our noses up against the glass. We discussed ...
5 days ago