All I Knew: The Coast of Everything by Guillermo Stitch
I wish I knew how to talk to people about my work* but you might as well ask a monkey strapped to a laptop how it handles falling action. It’s alchemy—an effluvium rising from the keyboard’s chitinous click. In an act of unmitigated…
I wish I knew how to talk to people about my work* but you might as well ask a monkey strapped to a laptop how it handles falling action. It’s alchemy—an effluvium rising from the keyboard’s chitinous click. In an act of unmitigated hubris—pure gall—I try to reproduce a magic I first found on the page. I don’t know how it works any more than the ancient at his altar understood what that wisp on the breeze—smoke rising from the lamb that might have fed his family—had to do with averting crop failure.
