“Why all of these days where that cold satisfaction never comes to those that reside and die, and fuck under the bridge of our society? The cold faces that trundle around street corners, pretending not to notice the absence of your arm, of your right eye, of your stationary state of mind.”
The first few lines of a story I’m working on. You might notice that it is a litte different from my other work. I tried writing faster than I normally do. Just typing away, instead of staring at the computer for a number of hours.