There's something beautiful about the incompleteness. A half eaten watermelon, a ghost who's stuck in the mid realm, a fish who raised to the surface to drink some sunlight immersing itself halfway down the water, a voice close to a whisper but not a sound. It's crushing. But it holds. It's like oatmeal. It sustains.
There's something beautiful about the incompleteness. A half eaten watermelon, a ghost who's stuck in the mid realm, a fish who raised to the surface to drink some sunlight immersing itself halfway down the water, a voice close to a whisper but not a sound. It's crushing. But it holds. It's like oatmeal. It sustains.
