rusted_flower:
I went in search of Piranesi's carceri, along canals of blood, through ovarian sacs and fallopian tubes
rusted_flower:
beside gut lines, between fascia, a long lost route past magdalena's bed and the cold bath of susanna
rusted_flower:
now and then from somewhere, I hear the computer singing, the camera winds its eye along valleys. the husks of cells?
rusted_flower:
old women sit with skin as soft as, as soft as what? time with feathers?
rusted_flower:
the light is grey but you can feel the colour underneath, still humming little tunes of love
rusted_flower:
and through this?