If your touch should catch and shimmer over nightfall, there would be a word there. Sloth, perhaps, or vicissitude. As in, the sloth of death and earth's slow rumble, or questions concerning the vicissitudes [ . . . ]
You are viewing a work from the archives of the Dirty Napkin. What you are seeing is only the beginning of this work. Full access to the archives is only available to our subscribers. If you are a subscriber, log in to remove this restriction. If you are not a subscriber, please consider becoming a subscriber today.
