Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

Exclaim!

Atlas.

Tron.

Gravity.

Abyss.

Tune-up.

So there’s about a week left in the Future Fire‘s Indiegogo campaign to raise funds for another ten years; go, look, pledge. —I mention this not only because it’s a great little ’zine, but also because they bought a story of mine: “The Tuner,” published some little time ago. —So there’s that.

“Jagged bits of plastic spattered to the floor. Again, and again, until it broke open in a spray of colored wires and thin green beaded cards.”
  Textile help

PIS.

Setas de Sevilla.

Prison Money Diaries.

Castaneda.

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Jupiter drops

Kinematograph

Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Mass”

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  • Falling will fall, fell
  • Diseffected
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