Watched a raucous murmuration of starlings descend on an oak to tear its squirrels' nests to shreds, sprays of leaves & twigs exploding from points around the tree as the mob circulated.
Late 200X in my library office with the door locked, listening to this with my forehead leant against the window, staring disconsolately at snow falling on Squirrel Hill roofs. David Sylvian briefly contextualizing my decaying corpse into picturesqueness.
Eventually the the bridge and the borough will collapse, and the former'll be a jagged roadblock marking the border of some orchard owner horse breeder's fiefdom.
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Une instance se voulant accueillante pour les personnes queers, féministes et anarchistes ainsi que pour leurs sympathisant·e·s. Nous sommes principalement francophones, mais vous êtes les bienvenu·e·s quelle que soit votre langue.
A welcoming instance for queer, feminist and anarchist people as well as their sympathizers. We are mainly French-speaking people, but you are welcome whatever your language might be.