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
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
*Patreon — New short fiction, ‘Gallow Neap’


I always smile upon your words, Liam. Sending my best out to you.