At the chemist, the queue inches; a woman practises a name she can’t quite say. I buy plasters and a small mercy: the pharmacist’s nod, ordinary and exact. Outside, the sky keeps its grey promise. I carry home the quiet, unspilled.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
At the chemist, the queue inches; a woman practises a name she can’t quite say. I buy plasters and a small mercy: the pharmacist’s nod, ordinary and exact. Outside, the sky keeps its grey promise. I carry home the quiet, unspilled.