broken pottery was his commodity

music: salt part 2, meursault
mood: frostbite

sinking footsteps through the snow like waves & i am careful to step only in blankness (always, always, always doomed to begin afresh). at night, or in the dark of early afternoon, my limbs relaxing into gradual sleeplessness. the taste of edgeless wishes, gifts of red bean paste & genmaicha.