year_of_the_rat raze the first one fell of its own free will and sank to the bottom of a water-filled basin. seconds under and already as dead as a thing not yet born. the second one crept behind the couch and hid, waiting for the end to come. that's the trouble with rats. you only get a year with them. two if you're lucky. and then the whole mischief mourns. you should make yourself as small as me. we'll share their cage. groom each other. i trip over my words. a room with nine doors becomes a door with nine rooms. you know what i mean to say. the music that shaped you sounds dated now, but it's full of feeling. now trim the aspect ratio of the film that brought these whispered words to you. find a sweeter subject to interview. 240918 what's it to you? who go blather from