The Horror and Beauty of Beds

The Darkcamp The 12 levels of the subworld Must look like a cross-section of ant tunnels I am reverse-birthed downwards every night, one choice at a time through the plasma womb into greater worlds —the haylight and the ocarina’s harmonies but the fanged proprietor makes me forget every morning— —the trick Down to level 11…

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I don’t even remember the layover in Ft. Lauderdale. I genuinely don’t. All the information I have from this event is pre-memory: letters and figures on a sheet of paper—my ticket—that said I was to be in Ft. Lauderdale for an hour and 10 minutes. Post memory: the ticket still exists. I am now in Costa…