dried raze the house has flooded, along with everything else. i don't live here. but this is where i am. two men who haven't yet gone under tell me the choice is mine to make. i can join them in the last working lung of a drowned city, or i can take my chances out there in the indifferent arms of the rising tide. i stare at the mouth of a door that almost isn't breathing anymore. i don't trust myself to make it past those pursed lips. i might have pulled it off a minute ago. indecision is my undoing. same as it ever was. i turn and follow my supposed saviours through a door in the floor, into a cramped cupboard, bland and impervious. there's enough room for the three of us and one more stowaway. "welcome to dry world," someone says, "where we play chess all day and try not to starve." i imagine swimming to a slit in the ceiling and being cleaved in two when it closes around my waist. a picture to take the place of all the words i might have fired into the firmament if i'd only been a little braver. 240227 ... pony This reminds me of the third segment of The House (dir. Paloma Baeza, "Listen again and seek the sun") - have you seen it? - I cried when I realized what was happening, and began to drown. 240227 ... raze i haven't seen it, but now i think i must. (this was a strange little dream i had. i've been having a hard time remembering them lately, and the epic brain_movies of old seem to have taken a long sabbatical, but once in a while something stays with me and i'm left thinking, "i might not know what this means, but it feels important.") 240227 ... pony I had a feeling it was a dream of yours, and it came out certainly far better than my alphabet animals did. Do watch that segment if you can - bring tissues or maybe a hammer for your own head, in case of emotional emergency. 240227 what's it to you? who go blather from