Making my hands, making my hands, making my hands, making my hands, making my hands...
digital?
More polemics, perhaps.
Am grateful for the opportunity I s'pose. Been a haphazard luxury to commit the hands to feelers to push, mush, crush wooden templates onto paper. This is what I do. In some sorts... dome and home... I want to convey sorrow for the passing of my dear lovely cat in all of this; alas the spiritus of up/down/to/fro freezes the head and well? shitfire if I'm not staying busy as a precedent of deeper avoidance. All that aside...
A picture and puncture.
Have it merry and hairy.
I haven't washed in days.
The door's unlocked, however.
(eyes used for tooth support)
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