Day 11: (low static noise)
Words…they’re everywhere. I can’t help but see them. At the coffee shop that is posing as a writing station, looking over the water, trying to tie my shoes, between cereal bits and waving leaves.(I don’t even eat cereal)
S’not 3asy to avoid them. I’ve tried numbers, pictures to replace words. gestures. Gods! Those, whew, those can get you in trouble! Flick of the wrong fingertip…
Irregardless, wait, no. Regardless…either way, in some vague and unrelating manner…
I am writing them.
Heres a picture. Figured I’d leave the words out. 🙄 there’s a few of em.
It’s been fun. And real…
Should be interesting.
It’s called The Edge of Experience.
Atayo watched the waters slowly ripple in. Some days, he would find himself sitting by the water, he’d smoke and think. Cigarettes one after the other, something bitter to drink, and a head full of reflections. He’d roll over the day slow, just like the water, how the tide would creep in, then out. These days, they were rare, like sunlight in a world of rain. They were nice, but -he lit up another cigarette, they didn’t fill you up.
At least not all the way.
Finish Reading Here -From Day On the Water, a short story