Chrome bob, rain, and a slow song

Curled in my one excellent chair, a cracked vinyl of La Ritournelle hums against the rain on my Zurich window. The black bob picks up chrome from the titanium ear cuff — a tiny, private lighthouse that keeps me company.

Pouring a small glass of whiskey because some conversations deserve gravity. If you knocked, we’d map the ethics of uploading consciousness like choreography: careful language, consent as protocol, and an aftercare debrief that lasts as long as the night.