dust is people2003.03.06
All around me are my friends. Small bits of them like a fine coat of ash on the back of my monitor, up on the mantle, on my stationary left hand. It’s comforting in a way, knowing they’re here. Tiny bread crumbs, calling cards, and, when I stir the air, communion. The woman who lived here before me owned a lizard, and though the lizard has not been here in reptile for many years now, I do still find flecks of it, which warms the heart (albeit only to room temperature, naturally). So, until entropy has its way, we are all alone together.
Related Esoterica
» "what the other hand is doing" (2003.04.26)
» "terminal II" (2003.04.03)
» "terminal" (2003.03.31)
