To preface this review, I would like to share a memory in the form of a third-person short story to serve as some form of obnoxious artistic disambiguation.
It was early spring but it felt like summer. The melting sun hung distantly in the sky as he stared at it through his window. He wasn’t daydreaming when he looked at the sun. He had recently discovered that dreams had a tendency to wither and die with even the vaguest traces of adulthood. He was thinking about the sun and he was ... read more