Whales
Migration maps, whale song at 2 a.m., and the one that sings at 52 hertz.
Specimen 001Cabinet
Every few weeks my brain adopts a new exhibit and studies it like a final exam. Whales. Octopi. Haiku. The inside of Michelin kitchens. The fever always passes; the specimens stay.
Six rooms, three languages, one long fever. The current obsession is the museum itself — you are standing inside it.
Dates are approximate. Obsession does not keep a calendar.
Migration maps, whale song at 2 a.m., and the one that sings at 52 hertz.
Specimen 001Three hearts, blue blood, and no respect for the lid of any tank.
Specimen 002Seventeen syllables. For one month I tried to think in them.
Specimen 003Brigade hierarchies, tweezers, and the terrifying calm of the pass.
Specimen 004My ADHD picks the exhibits, not me. Total, joyful tunnel vision with an expiry date — I stopped fighting it and started cataloguing it. If you recognise the pattern: welcome. The cabinet is open.