Schrödinger’s Interval Unspalsh Mike Petucci Tonight, I lie beneath my beige waffle-weave blanket, which I love because it feels inherited, like something that has already lived a life before it came to me. Candles flicker on the nightstand, their small flames steady and loyal. The window to my right is open.
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Morning never arrives all at once. It unfurls — slow, deliberate, like a soft-spoken omen. Continue reading on Medium » Original article: https://medium.com/@anntomology/on-the-human-condition-02a87b89f964?source=rss-dd9d16b8d22f——2
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The world is not a stage, but a glass wall, and I, the cursed witness, stand on the cold and barren side. I see the furious pulse, the rise, the silent fall, The joy that is a debt that suffering must abide. You pass me by in bright, sequential grace, each
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yuliea Unsplash “As little as you want to write when you’re happy, that’s how much you have to write when you’re miserable. Your passions need to go somewhere, and this is the only place left. Your suffering has to be good for something.” Spoken by the character Brian Bloom in
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I am the whisper beneath the static,the note just outside the chord,I am a noticer. Not in the light-touch way people meanwhen they say sensitive, no.I feel everything like it’s carved into me, into my very soul. In Music I am Barber’s Adagio for Strings, a cry that swells into cathedral silence.
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