3 Dec 2022

Babies, children, babies, baby me. Forget about the kids and remember we left them at home in another life, running parallel to the present. Whose gifts did we pass on? I compulsively collect them in hopes I can make up for not fulfilling this particular prophecy. But who was even asking?

A woman sits in a booth talking to another person whose back is to the camera, bathed in orange light, the shadow of a plant overhead.