Previously on Delfina: Pierrot and Delfina are stuck in Dapto, and to make matters slightly worse, Deija, the Martian Princess of Glass, has arrived with her battle fleet, armed with infrared energy weapons. They’re burning Dapto to the ground. Meanwhile, Delfina is chatting on the phone in a foreign language. The previous episode is here.
She turned to me.
“That was Deija. She’s apologised
and invited us to her Dapto castle-warming
Previously on Delfina: to escape the apocalypse, the unnamed protagonist allowed himself to be buried in sephine, and became somewhat translucent. He went with Delfina to the Menai, where they found her trans-reality cruiser, a junkyard Plymouth Satellite. The previous episode is here.
Delfina was in the driver’s seat.
“Do you have a name?”
Apparently, Delfina didn’t know everything.
“My name is unimportant,”
I sighed, “It gives me no pleasure,
and I’ve found no consolation in living.
I serve no purpose in the world,
and I’ve noticed that the Plymouth
has no wheels, for steering
In a pendant past, still waiting to become, my dreams were ever wandering in a lifeless land: the high night of suburbia, where the homes were anthracite compressed from smoke, and the streets all ran with bitumen, flowing over aeons to Nocturnia.
Inconstant light will be updating once per month from today, rather than once every three weeks. The reasons for this relate to the persistence of reality. It has nothing to do with the wood ducks, so they tell me.
What are you writing? Come on, let me see.
When Eloise left, she took most
of the crow in the fridge, just left the bones
and the beaks for me, but I didn’t care—
they were always my favorite bits.
When the morning’s rays are slanting through the kitchen windows, it’s time for mathematics.
Once upon a cereal box, I read of the analytical and inestimable Doctor Petal, who was confounded by the nature of free will, and chose to coalesce the time stream to make the future as irrevocable as the past.
When the rain fell sizzling down, damp with lightning, she observed the protozoa in each drop, waiting to reach the underworld to complete the polygon of life.
When fantasy disappeared from Fênix and everyone left, Sorry, who fell out of the sky with her Subaru, and a possibly undead storyteller, were left behind. She warned him of an imminent electrified dystopia, and they sought sanctuary in Guarapuava. On the way, they saw herds of armadillos ridden by sephine spiders. Part One is here.
Luck was with us when we arrived in Guarapuava:
the world had not yet ended, and by the teary shores of
the Lagoa das Lágrimas, we came across
the Pensive Teahouse, open after midnight.
When the realms of imagination were lost from Fênix, a furtive storyteller and Sorry, who fell out of the sky with her Subaru, were left behind. An electrical dystopia is on the way, and she is taking him to a sanctuary. It turned out that there was more in the sky than anyone expected, and a light rain of dead people has just fallen. Details of the artwork, which is part of the Selfie Exhibition, are given below.
The visitors from Nocturnia, the land
beyond the light of life, milled about
on the road, despite the Subaru’s