Fragments: if sounds had texture

A friend of mine makes juxtapositions of slightly different shades and curves to post on this platform. It’s supposed to capture the instant. We had a great VC the other day. There was nothing in her apartment. And it hurt me, somehow.

How many video calls have I made?

I wonder if they all remember me. “Where’s he now, huh?”

They know what they know, except I never do what I do for a single reason. They’re many, so we can apply logics proportionally. Four hours in the sun before your biggest job interview seems like a pretty accurate definition of ridicule. “I would shake your hand, but you see, I’m a little burnt up”.

To be fired. “Do you realize how much I’ve contributed to this fucking company?”

To be dumped.

To be kicked out of your own home. Once, twice. To lose track. To be in a state where street addresses don’t even make sense. To think that electronic devices are able to remodel reality… for evil purposes.

The word evil. All those puns. Wanna talk about Ukraine?

Better get a shipment of a skull dress for the pretty lady. Who she must be, now.

Some drawing.

I wonder if the notebook was worth it. The necklace, no comment.

I remember enjoying beer. She killed it, this other chick.

The word “chick”.

English is a funny language.

If I could just say: what do you want to know today?

I can’t.

If I could just say: “I know you care”.

A thousand pounds to use that phrase.

I forgot to wear Prada. It was fake anyway.

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