Mornings, magnified. Three small eggs in a nest scratched together with fluff and spit. Like a promise, these treasures that remain even as we feel rubbed. Raw sky screaming and capital letters. A crater turned on its head, billowing puffed up, all air on the inside, a desire for implosion. And by that I mean introspection, those deeper muscles
Rocío (Ro) Christensen
@rocio · 0:23
Whoa. This is like a shock to the system. Like the fluff and the spit and the raw sky and the rubbing. It's like so I don't know. It's so I don't know. It just feels like yeah. Yeah. Like waking up in a a flash. I love it. It's really, really visceral