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Un début dans l’obscurité

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It's the first day of the rest of my life, and I wonder where I will go from here. It's a simple question, asking to partake in a bond phenomenon that can only take place in print. I didn't forget you. You're always here, aren't you? Inquiring / genuflecting / cleaving. There are no effortless responses to these questions that you can't ask me. Media trained flash in the pan but I'll never understand how it feels to be broken by the weight of your perception of me. 

hand drawn old school boombox with antennae accepting sound, broadcasting sound via the speakers

City of Writers: muses live here

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