Nobody plants it.
It decides where it goes.
Then you can't remember the road without it.
07 · 27 · 27
Nobody plants it.
It decides where it goes.
Then you can't remember the road without it.
Shirts, an apron, cold brew, candles. None of it yet.
Something's growing where it shouldn't be.
I didn't ask. Nothing that spreads ever does.
You'll hear it before you can place it. By then it's in the ditch, the median, the crack in the road you drive every day and have never once looked at.
Laugh. That's the point.
Then check what you're laughing at.
This just makes it louder.
Studio time, and getting it in front of people. That's the whole list.
Songs, drops, dates, coffee. No spam. No begging.
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