Like most of us during lockdown, my life has slowed and grown much smaller. So I am answering all of these special letters.
“Oh my god. Why do you play these awful pranks.”
“No matter how far we drove, I looked back and I could still see them.”
“Okay, never mind. Go back to destroying the house.”
Did she see the man, or just the soiled linen?
There are an approximate 239456789987565 flood myths in recorded history. Here’s another one.
You like that Duchamp thing but find this stuff sexist?
He whiled his days arranging petals into offensive shapes.
Is she stupid, and full of apocalyptic self-hatred?
If there’s stuff in there you want, grab it. I’m gonna literally burn everything.
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