Sonic Week 2.20: Bunny Hops


Out here the days are just blurry shifts of space, quickened by a swift pace from town to city and slowed by the jungle of smog we keep safe just above. As we move we breathe in these fried soirees, dunked in the saturated oils of what we do when we forget this world is not ours. It always catches up with us, and not just because we walk and the world is round. Silky air makes gravity work in peculiar, perpendicular ways, similar to how the flow of words from mind to mouth find contextual sense somewhere in the gray medium between, up and left and fast past perceivable depth.

Words that wander together find a stitch to stay together, brushing off casual pleasantries and stock combinations in exchange for the patches of paradox that spark new idea. Like these turbulent drops, music inspires the corners of your mind to embrace, quilting patterns of thought over coffee, teasing listening lovers with its strong, curious design. These lives on imagined planes exist to throw you off the understood grid, to send you tanking and tumbling like wandering warriors of the grandiose and true new sea.


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