Cameron Brockman

Here we are again. Alone in the stale air of the airport terminal we passed each other a collection of blank glances. Up here anything seems possible. 'Do you have any hobbies?' 'Anchovies,' she replied.

23:25 The city as we passed through it was heavy with the vibration of tears. A trembling wasteland of ashes dancing Curved blade of the river cleaving through the middle. Melancholy rising from the bullet holes where the streets coiled …