10.16.05 - 12:46 p.m.

During the day my room has become a place for pale yellow moths to cling to the walls (always at my eye-level). At night they drift upwards (always at my thought-level) to circle the light in drugged slow motion. When I watch them travel round and round I think of the carousel I want to draw.

When I run into Zannie waiting to take the same bus as me, like I did this morning, my eyelids blush and my life force tows my logic under.

Old friends, you are the building blocks of life.

see< >saw

i whisper hello to everything