the c so beautiful

’tis like when achilleus gave away his body armour to patroclus and he had to make do with odysseus’ ill-fitting loincloth. i can no longer walk through your garden in my own shoes. what’s left is a shed full of half-finished canvasses of happiness with dainty little clouds rolling in. ’tis like when the ironmongerContinue reading “the c so beautiful”