hourglass.weeks pass by slowly, slipping through the choked neck of the tiny hourglass. red dye #9 sand falls grain by grain to meet millions of its fellows, identical.hourglass.
what a metaphor: every day, second, the same as the last.
how quaint. the hourglass tips slowly, and i watch it tumble off the side of the skyscraper, only to shatter into a small mushroom cloud of red dust five hundred meters below. i should have gone with it.
imagination shapes our world."look, it's a man." i showed you the links attaching the curtain to the shower rod.imagination shapes our world.
you stared. "how so? i don't see it." "no, because you have to turn it over." i pulled one off, ripping the fragile plastic sheet in the process, but no one cared.
"see. these are his eyes, and he has a fat nose." you still didn't see it. it was always like that: you didn't have much imagination to spare to my petty observations. or maybe it was the other way around -- i had too much for you to deal with, and so you tuned it out. maybe you'd still be nearby if i'd been a little more dull.
we are still screaming.
Neutral
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Eighteen going on extinct.
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Eighteen going on extinct.
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Life is good,skateboarding is better!
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Eighteen going on extinct.
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