Coordinates uncertain — the signs point one way, the sky another. My wife and I arrived at dawn, rain behind us, market ahead.
Rows of tents stitched from tarps and shadows. Vendors smiling too wide. The mud moves when you’re not looking.
Took photographs for the record. They will not develop properly.
No revelations today. Just images. And dolls. Always the dolls. They were waiting for us.
26 Sep, 2026
Roll your own epiphany. Or: On [Ordinary Object] and the [synonym for quiet] Art of Writing
in which our hero makes pseudo intellectual writing easier for everyone.
25 Sep, 2026
status 092526
I've a little utility on my iPad called Momento Mori. All it does is tell me I'm going to die in a daily notification. I've just been laughing at it every day. That may not be healthy...?
20 Sep, 2026
The Group Therapy coffee at the End of the Universe
in which our hero lets Schopenhauer read Douglas Adams as humanity is dead set on self desctruction.
