it's been a few times already that it comes. it stops. it sinks. it seeps through everything. like a sticky mud, black and shiny and dense. it feels like a switched off lamp. like a house that was abandoned a few months ago and there's mould everywhere and a sense of calm expectancy. not even like a tsunami. much slower, much more universal.
one day, you take a walk to the seafront with a friend. the next day, it's all mud.
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