“It’s All Limits” is a game and the whole time it feels like you're almost at the good part (the part where someone wins). It's full of desire but you aren't quite sure who it belongs to and you really want to know. The game keeps going and going and maybe it's still fun, maybe it isn't. It is tension. It is apprehension. It is wanting and waiting and building and being scared. "It's All Limits" moves fast and pulls you with it.

"Visit Dublin (2004)" is a universe. Facts, in factual language, in surreal dreaminess, in vivid colour, in touchable detail, in questionable truth: it is a day, a week, a month, the time it takes to shape a little life, the time it takes to carve a scar into a skeleton. This story is your buried memories, your first kiss, your first stitches, your broken arm, and it is none of these things because it is its own untrustworthy nostalgia, rhythmic and perfectly distilled, alone, together.

"Invisible Planets" is tired of trying to make it work: it doesn't smile for you, or hold the door, or apologize for getting in your way, but it does move through language at its own perfect pace with its own perfect simmering rage and rightfulness and a soft, shaky undercurrent of tentative hope. The cadence of this story looks for a place called home that feels like it; its heartbeat offers something that feels like a different kind of home. Here: it is raw. Here: it is soft underneath. Here: it wants. Be willing, or carry on.