Nobody knew where the falling haiku came from.

Meteorologists traced them to a hundred mountains. GPS trackers vanished. Satellite-led drones took their own lives, diving into skyscrapers.

Like snowflakes, each note was different.

Slowly, we came to love them.

I drape the bladderwrack around my head like a wig, ready to be tapped on the ear with driftwood. You lift the conch high in the air, summoning the voice of God. Blinded, distracted, we see each other for the first time, and neither of us approves.

Mastodon @ SDF

"I appreciate SDF but it's a general-purpose server and the name doesn't make it obvious that it's about art." - Eugen Rochko