Stitching All Things: My Notes on Human Skin

Why do white bones that have been dead for three years ooze warm blood? What was in its pocket turned out to be today's newspaper with my photo printed on it. Is it time travel, a clone, or a prank from underground? I picked up the invisible needle and sewed the strange characteristics into my own flesh and blood. In this crazy resurgent city, only by becoming the biggest monster can we suture the truth.