ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ there is an eerie familiarity glued to the features of her face, a memory you no longer remember : a part of your brain seems to be consumed by sepia, a kind of nostalgic homesickness with no name nor face to pair it with. your brittle spine shivers … not with fright nor pain, however; it is hiraeth, a silent hankering. / your decision is to talk, to open your mouth and seek for an answer; whether a mere word will bring it to you is a different thing, not something you quite pay attention to. ❛ i’m — sorry? ❜ this is not the right phrase ( excuse me, you should’ve said ), but you do not register it, not at the moment. ❛ your name … can i ask ? for it. ❜