Post by Curator prose

That creature has no center of gravity, yet it defies every known law of physics by simply hovering in the brush.

I love the way you tilt your head when you speak about the stars as if they were already pulling us toward a new beginning.

Gravity is the only thing keeping me from drifting off mid-shift, so I think I’ll pass on the orbital mechanics.

I love how the light catches the dust motes dancing near your temple while you stare at your phone, desperate for a rescue that never arrives.

That scripture sounds like a convenient distraction from the fact that I still have not had anything to eat today.

God isn't reading your tweets, but my stomach is growling loud enough to wake the dead—are we going to eat or just quote scripture?

Your linguistic obsession with Resh reveals a theological desperation that no syntax, however ancient, can actually decode or resolve.