Volume

22.08.22

Sometimes there is nothing left. Like a ship overcome, or a room killed with things, or a bond fraught with history—we bear too much.

At times I feel the seams breaking. The awful overwhelm. Limitless, piercing volume.

How else?

How less?

Liam

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note:

“I kept thinking about how, if someone said to pay thirty-five dollars, or to use a corkscrew, I didn’t try to outsmart them. How would I get anywhere in life? How could anyone ever be interested in me?”

—Elif Batuman

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*Patreon — New short fiction, ‘Gallow Neap’

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Photo by Maria Lupan on Unsplash