Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Insanae et vanae curae invadunt mentes nostras: III

Fiction Excerpt

Somehow we age a decade every year in New York City and are never the wiser.

When a person turns away from me, the silence begins and anxiety fills it -- the faceless void is filled with pain. But what's worse is the sound of faces, of the multitude of faces brashing against me for every single second I'm on the street. Give me the void and my anxiety! accompanied by comforting nothingness and nightmares -- a cozy fireplace within which I'll become ash.

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