When I have a fever I still feel like I must write; to draw its ugly face with words and rat it out to everyone that wants to punch its face with me. But when fever comes by, it doesn’t like to be mocked. It grabs my wrists and pokes my bones and this is all that comes out: the few words above that I can manage to type..

And somehow a memory of Michael Wolf’s Tokyo Compression…

Tokyo Compression by Michael Wolf
Tokyo Compression by Michael Wolf
Tokyo Compression Revisited by Michael Wolf
Tokyo Compression Revisited by Michael Wolf