Sisteroid

On a quiet summer’s day, I will remember the strange mumbo jumbo I’ve muttered into paisley tea-cups and hat-boxes, into pearly, desperado rooms of anonymous paint and wallpaper, places strewn with highlander words and floral confetti of the most incarnate sort; nonsensical nursery rhymes quacking left and right in the intervals of the fulcrum night, where the silver face of the yellow moon hang...