Lo...Fi...Boom

Sunday drips.
The light is thick and golden, leaking through half-closed blinds. You're not sure if you're still dreaming or if this is what waking feels like now — slow, suspended.

The city hums outside, heavy with heat.
Inside: someone exhales.
A lighter flicks.
Sound curls in the corners of the room — warm, low, familiar.

Lo... Fi... Boom...
A rhythm without urgency.
Like breath after the storm.
Like the echo of bodies moving long after the music stopped.

There’s no rush.
There’s only this:
the haze, the heat, the softness of time undone.

DRNOX
for the floaters, the lingerers, the lovers of in-between.

PAUPERHOUSE Inc.
because the after is a world of its own.