Notes

I am splitting at the seams. Buttons are popping off left and right, affordable Chinese fabrics, failing after just under a year of wear. 

There is very little space. Take a few steps back. Things tend to seem heavier in small spaces, because there’s no room for stacking. Everything is layered, simply and firmly. There’s no splinter in the middle as before. Vagueness abounds, but there is no knocking on the door, no telephone ring, no notepads, not thumbtacks, no real wounds of any kind, save the obvious. 

When one accepts that the sum of all to be another extension of self, what’s next?