To flower

The page in front of me was patient. The clock muttered to itself but left me alone. Finally the last word, tired of being teased, settled into place. In my hands the manuscript turned to lead. I stepped outside and the world burst into a million gentians.

Coffeeshop, pt. 2

A week back and a week without the coffeeshop--this is how you can tell it's been a difficult week. Which way does the causality run? you may wonder. Either way there is a delight in evoking the surroundings in which I currently reside--a wonderful circularity of reality into representation, representation into immediate reality. Correspondence.

The man behind the counter, with a silvery shirt, is wearing light blue checks today. Typical. He knows my name. I don't know his, but in my mind I tend to call him Sean.