“But what if the big bad wolf and the seven goats all came together and started melting their tech house record collection into a giant phonograph cylinder?”
“That would change everything” – he replied.
My Dearest, Sadly, I am writing to you in a time of utmost turmoil – a time in which even the poets can’t distinguish anymore between their genuine feelings and their ironically held sentiments. At first I thought I was the exception, but writing this letter my assumption wanes…
Do you hear this sound? Like a droning growl swelling up and down? Like a sinister hum haunting the streets and flooding every corner? Like a clangorous claw snatching at our backs?
I can’t stop humming along.