~nur
@eeyorethethird.bsky.social
I live on the 6th floor. He lives in the guard booth.
Between us: a thread of care, stretched taut over the abyss of *what if*.
Some people build shelters out of steel.
He builds them out of words.
Between us: a thread of care, stretched taut over the abyss of *what if*.
Some people build shelters out of steel.
He builds them out of words.
April 23, 2025 at 7:32 PM
I live on the 6th floor. He lives in the guard booth.
Between us: a thread of care, stretched taut over the abyss of *what if*.
Some people build shelters out of steel.
He builds them out of words.
Between us: a thread of care, stretched taut over the abyss of *what if*.
Some people build shelters out of steel.
He builds them out of words.
‘Leave your balcony open. If the earth shakes, I’ll shout for you.
Don’t run downstairs—up is safer. Climb to the roof.
And if you’re too afraid to sleep? Come here. My chair isn’t much, but you can rest.’
Don’t run downstairs—up is safer. Climb to the roof.
And if you’re too afraid to sleep? Come here. My chair isn’t much, but you can rest.’
April 23, 2025 at 7:31 PM
‘Leave your balcony open. If the earth shakes, I’ll shout for you.
Don’t run downstairs—up is safer. Climb to the roof.
And if you’re too afraid to sleep? Come here. My chair isn’t much, but you can rest.’
Don’t run downstairs—up is safer. Climb to the roof.
And if you’re too afraid to sleep? Come here. My chair isn’t much, but you can rest.’