Written by Jacob Ibrag
He walks at a snail’s pace, through the fog and all.
Earbuds turned all the way up. Spotify playlist playing all
of the aesthetic hits. Each song, a conversation between him
and his younger being. Turning a corner in the street and in his
head. A triangle-shaped garden and its roses. Thorns and their
elegant stems. Thorns, that’s how he remembers it. Uneven
sides, an isosceles upbringing. Snails pace, he paces.
Each side, a different speed. Three sides to
his being. Indifference, differently.
Image by ryota nagasaka


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