blathes raze sometimes they're conversations. sometimes they're monologues. sometimes they're letters_unsent. sometimes they're stories. sometimes they're poems. sometimes they're dreams. sometimes they're memories. sometimes they're prayers. sometimes they're jokes. some are ongoing_blathes, while others stand_still. some are crowded rooms, and some are as empty_as_a_winter_tree. they aren't really pages or posts. they're segments of our souls in stasis, red as the grenadine that makes our bodies run. 220317 what's it to you? who go blather from