Echoes

hops

Now is the autumn of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of the Anthro­pocene;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Just for one day …

insulator

Really do need to get over the whole triangles thang.

chives

Basked in the balmy after­shock of summer … can slide into mellow mists, content.

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