I’ll continue my “where I’ve been” series a little later today, but for now I wanted to share a snippet from one of those random, dissociative dreams we all have.
There was a pile of wagon wheel pasta in a corner, and there were flies, who were made of pasta, swarming around and eating it. Just picture one of the endless variety of kids’ custom-shaped pastas, these in the cartoony outline of a house fly. They were alive, flying, moving around this pasta…and when they bit into the wagon wheels, the wheels would bleed…pasta sauce.
Do I need help?
zoecarnate 
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