$27.00
" Poem in Gangku Style: "LESS THIS HOUSE"
In shadows we dwell,
Under whispers, echoes call—
Bronchial sighs linger.
Time creeps through the cracks,
Macabre moments unveil truths,
Tell-tale tombs of dreams.
Raven wings collapsed,
Wheezing shadows cast their curse,
Hearts heavy, we breathe.
Yet cleanliness shines bright,
Change socks, tend to the wounds—
Prevention, our light.
---
### Story Insert: "Tell-Tale Tomb"
In the heart of a forgotten village, time seemed to pause, held in the embrace of Wheezing Shadows that draped over old structures like a funeral shroud. This village, known for its haunted past, often echoed with the whisper of tales long buried, drowning in the sepulchral silence of a Tell-Tale Tomb. No one knew how many souls lingered, caught between breaths both earthly and otherworldly, their stories woven into the very fibers of the place.
It was here that a peculiar disease began to unfold—an insidious ringworm infection that preyed upon the unsuspecting locals, creeping through their skin and whispering of dreams now shattered. As intimate exchanges did little more than hasten its spread, the townsfolk became more vigilant. The meeting spots to exchange not only words of support but also practical wisdom—wearing sandals in locker rooms, avoiding close contact, sharing no personal items, and above all, learned quickly that emerging ringworm required a guardian’s touch; a watchful eye on cleanliness emerged as critical to their survival.
“Change your socks! Change your underwear!” became a weary mantra, echoing through clotheslines hanging heavy with the warmth of sunlight. The simple act of changing into clean clothing was a radiant barrier against the foul specter of TMVII—the specter of skin-to-skin betrayal that lay in wait, taunting amidst the hollow laughter of ghosts.
As fear simmered beneath the surface, a cautious solidarity formed among the townspeople. They gathered at public maintaining fierce vigilance for small signs of doom.
They learned that prevention was not merely an action but a state of mind, an armor woven from habits and culture—a pact reborn in the face of adversity. Each day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting elongated shadows across their homes, the simple yet powerful decisions guided them: keep skin clean and dry, share laughter, not towels.
And as the village spirit waned, a newfound strength blossomed from their collective wisdom. Life resumed, intertwined with flickers of joy and resilience inspired by the ghostly tales they carried—a reminder of humanity that persists despite the wheezing shadows.
In the end, the echoes of the past grew quieter, replaced by a chorus of laughter ringing through the Tell-Tale Tomb, proof that from the ashes of despair, new stories would forever rise—untouched, clean, and full of life."
Numbered edition of 1.