http://xuflspp6gvk3uhzkk2oyzgdodftg7wez45w7fwewbgpgua57722ihlyd.onion/poems/left-to-settle.html
His voice comes early, like a radio picking up stations just before the song, a few words too soon, a beat off-rhythm, the kind of thing you get used to until you don’t. He floats in the way a leaf does, not carried by the wind, not falling either, just... there. He means well. He means everything he says. He means to belong, but meaning is different than knowing how.