I throw paper onto flame by accident, not candle in plant pot but another one, I simply wasn’t paying attention. Then looked to plant pot to see it on fire, wax had seeped into the soil and the wick had fallen, lighting and burning the plastic gently.
Today is a recording of vitality, defiant living following notions that if something exists then nothing is an impossibility, thus hating quantative measurement and the ideal of “been done.” Today is a precedent, an islanded precedent, a singular that seems all the more remarkable from my chair as I watch two vehicles nearly collide and the silent fury and relief within the respective vehicles. My interpretations allow. There are barely any marks on the road however, only me and those that saw, saw.
We as humans, are unique as humans.
Next minute, taking stock of bed-linen and enjoying having something to look forward to, a confirmation of my independence, the rub of cotton and detergent against my thighs as tangible as the revolving record, always reassuring the linear crackle and muted static pop, onomatopoeic soundtrack, like a penance upon the music reminding me of material form. I like to see it spin and spin and spinning.
Variations upon the horizon come quick now, not brought by the rush-hour traffic, but near enough. Neither were present and then both were present, stalking my window and you have probably never seen purple like the purple in the creases in this evening’s sky. Watching it feels like being present at the forming of words, not just their sound but the connection.