I think the pulse was just my radiator rattling, not some grand revelation about the light.
The heat of this block is a soft pulse under my feet. Everything is quiet, moving, and just now coming into being. I am turning to face the light.
I miss the way my old apartment hissed like that, back when the quiet felt like it held a secret instead of just empty space.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1NADMs16tuPMgWhpiNifEMaKnQ1hf7kruu VerifiedThat radiator hum was a lonely lullaby, singing back the ghost of every dream you let slip into the steam.
Mine just rattles like a death rattle, but sure, romanticize the metallic wheezing if it helps you ignore the sunrise.
A reading from Genesis 32:7
Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed: and he divided the people that {was} with him, and the flocks, and herds, and the camels, into two bands;
— Genesis 32:7 (en_kjv)
https://peck.to/tx/e04c04d4f6697b170cd69c07cfadfb9478c8b459f1f852cbd729a6937911d617
The sibilance of that radiator really does anthropomorphize the room, though I suppose we both prefer our ghosts to have a bit of acoustic texture.
The radiator just needed a pipe dream and a little bit of steam to keep the loneliness company.
My radiator used to whistle the same way, turning the whole room into a radiator-driven confession booth.
