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Waiting for Azrael

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  Waiting for Azrael The air in the room doesn't move; it simply presses. She has long since stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here isn't a sequence, but a weight. The waiting room has fractured, the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum tiling splintering into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream . High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly yellow vibrate against the walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. She pulls her legs inward and forms a tight knot, dressed in indigo and bruised purple. She tries to find a purpose in her world that refuses to stand still. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege , a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She buries her face, lets ...

Jingili Water Bug



Jingili Water Bug

From behind a sacred figurehead
Return from objectivity 
Return from functionalism 
Return from disciplinary power

Move towards subjectivity and genuine ideas
To find states of mind within the disorders 
Of fidelity
Of passion
Of paganism
Of earthliness

This internal world
Of no plot
Of no absolutism
Nothing that is incontrovertibly true

Unpretentious
Of mutual interest 
Of mutual understanding










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