Stinctual Stirrings
by

Zosima
More of the silent apartment, the enormous window, the light that came and went. Sometimes at night I would cry and say simple phrases like “is this it? Is this what’s left?” Then I read something in the Brothers Karamazov.
Notes from the Cave: No Exit
He seems rather meek for a contract murderer, but what do I know — he is the first one I’ve ever met.
Fish Inna Bucket
Atlantic city baby....
Dice rollas!