This is why, in spite of their distance, the thought of being connected again haunts them. At night, they still ache over the fact that they are not one.
Stitching innumerable series of electric pylons and half-built/half-demolished high-rises, for the eye yearns to see
Tails, claws, racing limbs, wagging fingers—pulsing, flickering, slow revolution, spinning, cutting, differential speeds. Fingerprints float past, unfathomable maps of a sensual cosmos out of reach, suffocating
The currents of the wind in the grass, patterns of migration, lines of commerce, signals broadcast from distant towers, the sounds of the insects and the light of the stars, converging on a body in unforeseen and uncontrollable ways.
Disfigurement, the act of impairing one’s appearance indefinitely, is arguably the most intimate form of torture.
When mad, one carefully constructs his or her existence in an effort to not merely feel close to their god, but to be one with their god.
A method of espionage tradecraft allowing for the optimally secure exchange of secrets and physical items between conspirators…