“there’s no such thing as ordinary” my hair serpentining in the wind like an orgy of snakes above Medusa’s sparking eyes the smell of petrichor and manure--a perfume born by storm clouds in a silver-etched sky Neil Gaiman’s voice sketches London Underground’s unknown imagination roams roads other than the one i drive upon blooming lilacs border the shopping center sidewalk saturate the air as shoppers walk, watch their own feet mesmerized by asphalt, shoe leather, and inner monologues, too few look up notice the blue peeking just above their heads *If you’d like to read about my progress and plans this year, as well as craft tips, you can subscribe to my Patreon and support my work for just $1 a month! Until next time, stay safe and well, and read often!
Cat Russell 
This reminds me of tooling around in the Miata, especially on mild summer days with the top down. (Although we wear hats to keep serpetining hair from turning into a snarled mess.)
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