Eric's Pckt Blog

A century of gathering clouds. Ghost ships arriving and leaving. The sea deeper, vaster. The parrot in the bamboo cage spoke several languages. The captain in the daguerrotype had his cheeks painted red. He brought a half-naked girl from the tropics whom they kept chained in the attic even after his death. At night she made sounds that might have been singing. The captain told of a race of men without mouths who subsisted only on the scents of flowers. This made his wife and mother say a prayer for salvation of all unbaptized souls. Once, however, we caught the captain taking off his beard. It was false! Under it he had another beard, equally absurd-looking. It was the age of busy widow’s walks. The dead languages of love were still in use, but also much silence, much soundless screaming at the top of the lungs.

Eric @esb.lol