Prague, Bitches

I’ll be living in Prague for the next four months and hopefully making some fun things over here. I’m trying to be less self-conscious of the parts of myself I’m putting out into the world, and so I’m getting over my weird gross feelings about posting online about this experience. I’ve started a second site to collect that kind of thing:

https://sakrasanct.wordpress.com

Sneak Peek at the first post:

 

Love Letter

Three rooms away and I can still hear the washing machine spinning like airplane propellers – hear the rolls of pink-as-cheeks toilet paper vibrating across the top as my sweaters are aggressively pummeled against each other. The cacophony is that which I have only heard of – from parents of newborns, or wild children all grown up and lamenting the concerts that robbed them of their hearing. The loud rhythm of the washer holds my bloodstream captive.

I love the washing machine.

It reminds me of what it is to be alive. It caresses the ear canals I have painstakingly grown so that on days like today I can rock back and forth to the overarching melody of reckless oscillation.

This noise awakens your primordial depths and calls you to the beat of your ancestry, the pulsing flow of your innermost focus.

It remembers everything that you’ve forgotten.

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