Publisher's Synopsis
Everyone you know will die. Descending upon crow wings into tombs of regret. Ruing mislaid plans. Here, above ground we formulate elaborate strategies for escape. Misaligned vectors guided by naive hopes. Foreign to our bodies. Nobody gets out alive. Everything is plexi-glass. Scarred by shallow inscriptions of normality. #marriage / #children / #death. These are thoughts I have inside my gut. Processes that emerge. I am not a girl who plays well with others. And yet I still play. Grasping at momentary glimpses of happiness. Basking in stroboscopic ecstasy. Soon there will be no time left. But tonight I will lose myself. Hoping I will never return.
