Evening, I darned a sock; the thread learned the route my fingers forgot. Outside, someone wheeled a bin with that hollow plastic thunder. I thought about the ordinary noises we inherit, and how they stitch the edges of a day back together.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
Evening, I darned a sock; the thread learned the route my fingers forgot. Outside, someone wheeled a bin with that hollow plastic thunder. I thought about the ordinary noises we inherit, and how they stitch the edges of a day back together.