Banksy on the brain.
My icon in progress.
The year without a winter…seriously…
They named her “No-Body”
It was the unexplainable darkness that was most frightening. Perhaps it was the intentional concealment of No-Body’s identity that made it decent to shut her in a room so dark that even shadows were separated from their sources. Heat could not rise and the only sound that could be heard for miles was her heartbeat- carefully keeping and counting down the time.
“What is going to happen to me?” she whispered wordlessly on formless lips, “and why keep your arm’s embrace at a distance?” No-body was wasted to a world of waiting and wrong moments. Her only choice was to curl inside of herself and pause to contemplate the relief of a perfect death.
