Dot all your Eyes

sailo manthra is a sixteen year old boy. he's boring in almost every way. he sees color in situations that are genuinely gray. he's hyper-critical of the number eleven. he can't stand people who don't understand why; which is almost everyone. he speaks a semicolon when he really means a comma. he likes broken glass too much. he looks over his shoulder almost only when he's leaning against a wall. he loves expounding upon (by eliminating) purpose and concept by telling you why he's wrong about his own opinion. he starts a new paragraph even when nothing has changed in a narration. he offends math teachers because they're dumb. he thinks too much about atomic poetry and therefore about people who are left-handed. he does... not... like... rap music... ever. he believes in ee cummings (and likewise begins parentheses without finishing them. *footnotes are therefore inimical to his cast of mind. love is too trapped. dreams are too powerful. reason is too shattered. poetry is too conceited. self-esteem is too doesn't-know-where-it-is. memory can't um... remember why, but that's for too good of a reason. and the voices in his head have voices in their own. so when the love of his life splashes through the windshield of a car, you can imagine what someone like sailo manthra will do. or more specifically, what his head will do for him. elaborating on my personal philosophies of the "universal fractal," love (i invented it), loss, psycho-syn(a)esthesia and every single thing the number eleven can possibly typify, Dot all your Eyes, a network of experimental literary fiction, is heavily illustrated and complete at 150,000 words.