The Travesty of The Ping

Locked in for eight days; just two more to go, before setting foot on the – Not yet. Not even one foot in and the other one out, and yet, today, I hear, not from the app, but from a voice transmitted upon radio waves: “It is not illegal, people must remember, to go outContinue reading “The Travesty of The Ping”

Scrunch

Scrunch Disgust. Scrunch. Wrinkle. A mistake, a mere typo, a masterpiece, rejected by its author, scrunched up tight and thrown at Unwashed hair, with frizzy ends and greasy roots, scrunched up into a top-knot to A scrunched up nose, wrinkled, its wearer`s disgust disguised by And all of it with no need for any ofContinue reading “Scrunch”