itsmatthewburgos.bsky.social
I write flash fiction in people's posts.
also a magazine journalist / news editor.
pitches on technology, design, art, architecture:
www.matthewburgos.com
19 posts
50 followers
24 following
Getting Started
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🤍🤍🤍
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First, it's the silence. Then, our complacency. We fall into a routine, and living becomes a chore. We live in this town, in a big house with large windows. Yet it's so dark, even when we turn the lights on. We're at dinner now, and when I look at you, I see a distant memory I can vaguely remember.
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First, it's the silence. Then, our complacency. We fall into a routine, and living becomes a chore. We live in this town, in a big house with large windows. Yet it's so dark, even when we turn the lights on. We're at dinner now, and when I look at you, I see a distant memory I can vaguely remember.
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We're miles apart, but I still think of you. When I do, it brings me back to the time I wanted to stop time and float in the infinite. You shared your light, and I took half of it until I fed off of it, until you flickered. Now every time I look at the moon, I only see you.
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We're miles apart, but I still think of you. When I do, it brings me back to the time I wanted to stop time and float in the infinite. You shared your light, and I took half of it until I fed off of it, until you flickered. Now every time I look at the moon, I only see you.
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We grip our own umbrellas instead of holding hands. The soft pattering of the rain is the only sound that passes between us. That's fine. We’ve long known we don't sound familiar anymore. The rain still smells like you, but it's the kind of scent I wish I didn’t know.
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We grip our own umbrellas instead of holding hands. The soft pattering of the rain is the only sound that passes between us. That's fine. We’ve long known we don't sound familiar anymore. The rain still smells like you, but it's the kind of scent I wish I didn’t know.
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It’s past midnight, and we can’t sleep. We sit on the ragged rock outside our rented house and watch the sky. The stars spill around the colored sky, their glint lighting up our evening. For a moment, the tension between us mellows. Then, you say, “We’re smaller than we think we are.”
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It’s past midnight, and we can’t sleep. We sit on the ragged rock outside our rented house and watch the sky. The stars spill around the colored sky, their glint lighting up our evening. For a moment, the tension between us mellows. Then, you say, “We’re smaller than we think we are.”
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When the sunset colors the city, I think of you. We were on a rooftop, admiring the view. The wind blew, and I looked at you. Your throat bobbed, your lips quivered, your eyes spoke what your mouth couldn't. It was my first time seeing that view, and it was the last time I saw you.
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When the sunset colors the city, I think of you. We were on a rooftop, admiring the view. The wind blew, and I looked at you. Your throat bobbed, your lips quivered, your eyes spoke what your mouth couldn't. It was my first time seeing that view, and it was the last time I saw you.
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When you dance, you raise and twist your arms. You close your eyes and bow your head. I look at the space between your arms and see them frame the landscape in front of us. Somehow, everything merges until nature is no longer within you; until nature becomes you.
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When you dance, you raise and twist your arms. You close your eyes and bow your head. I look at the space between your arms and see them frame the landscape in front of us. Somehow, everything merges until nature is no longer within you; until nature becomes you.
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Haha yes - it'll probably help me with my flash writing. 🌟
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Thank you for this amazing picture and your kind words too - the image is an inspiration itself. 🤍
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To drive around here with you in the passenger seat. The driver holds your hand as you watch the sunset. The wind blows against your skin, and you close your eyes for a moment. You open them, and they’re still there: the sunset, the driver, you. Everything feels worth breathing for.
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Look at how fast time flies in cities. Cars speed by, and everyone rushes. Shops close, bars open, and we're here, standing in front of them all, worrying instead of feeling. These cities, they forget about us before we can even remember them.
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Look at how fast time flies in cities. Cars speed by, and everyone rushes. Shops close, bars open, and we're here, standing in front of them all, worrying instead of feeling. These cities, they forget about us before we can even remember them.
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To drive around here with you in the passenger seat. The driver holds your hand as you watch the sunset. The wind blows against your skin, and you close your eyes for a moment. You open them, and they’re still there: the sunset, the driver, you. Everything feels worth breathing for.
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Beautiful!