Two years ago, I started my UK adventure in the small town of Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk. It’s the sort of middle of the field town where public transportation consists of trains one every hour to larger centres like Ipswich, and otherwise, you really need a car. I managed well enough though, still getting …
The Eris Theory Poem: Order is Chaos Wearing a Train Timetable
The Eris Theory The dial tone drones. Drones. Drones. The train sends comets up to the sky as it shrieks and squeals on the tracks. My breath shudders. I count. Nine-hundred and ninety nine pixels of sun. Caught in the corners of ghost rooms. The sun burns. When I fell, dancing in the sleet of …