bump's profile

Cold Enough To Snow (1) You’re born in Brockmoor, and you’re born alone. You grow up lonely in the hopes that one day you’ll find another isolated soul, so you can grow absent together while furthering the species – push the button, empty the shredders, ring up the tills and chase that promotion. To pay for the privilege of living in a town that orbits its own sun, full of lives that move in swampish circles, if at all. It came to me when I was twenty-three, in one of those precious moments w...