next in line at the peak of the valley, his spine bent forward as he surrendered to his choices
Malcolm Peacock
Aug 25–Oct 15
You are not here. It is just I.
And thus, all of the problems that we can be, do not exist.
My singularity renders me harmless.
I am no longer a screen used for projection. At most, I am an abstract idea.
Something heard of but only in rumor.
I used to think that I was the sorest of thumbs.
After further investigation, I found that I evaporated when the plane landed.
The hostess takes 20 minutes.
“I didn’t even see you there. How are you?”
Maybe you should come visit.