My concentration shatters into a million tiny little pictures. Of shapes and curves and straight lines, of flattened hair and ?-tinted eyes and I have to piece it all back together in order to stay shane.
I want to wake up. I want to drown with my clothes on, for a while. I want to disappear into a green park which can be seen from above on the rooftops, but which you'll miss if you walk right outside. I want to eat something warm. I want you to call me Persephone.
And I don't want any more inside information, no, I'm done with them, folks.
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