Dispatch № 55: Emergent Remains
Nothing stays buried forever. No matter how deep in the sand, eventually things emerge. What happens after that, though, is anyone’s guess.
Dispatch № 54: Resident Alien
When it rains, they emerge from the ground and hunt.
Dispatch № 50: Ode to Fuzz
Because my cat is my most-requested topic
Dispatch № 44: Shuttered
The shutters came down, and the customers stopped coming, but life continued inside.
Dispatch № 43: The Summer Trope
It is a season for the seaside and the mountain stream. A season for eating ice pops while walking over the blistering asphalt of country roads fringed with green foxtail, the green of which has begun to fade to brown.
Dispatch № 39: Doing Nothing
There are two kittens in the bushes. Both are striped, though the smaller one is half-covered with splotches of white fur, as if it had been interrupted partway through repainting.
Dispatch № 31: The Management
The cat that looks like James Hetfield usually patrols around the tiny ramen shop by the shrine in the morning. On some days, the restaurant’s sliding door is open and he can be seen sitting inside, presumably conferring with the proprietors on some matter of importance.