Edinburgh │ 12 December 2017

A shift in the fabric that causes a rift in the imposition of certainty.

We live in the non-remain of a fragment –  a sigh expressed, not in a breath, but in a language of implosion – a wormhole cutting a dash through time.

There follows a period of mild inducements to the atmospheric disintegration of winter – a dissolution of its once solid heart of hardcore enterprise.

It is a god that dies a lonely death of inefficacious grandeur.

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