July 7, 2005

behind her eyes a ticking clock, a shattered window, a dripping faucet.
behind her hands shards of glass, a turning key, a damp cloth.
behind her thoughts a mass of graves, a hill of sand, and empty glass bottle.

thoughts and irritants, small ambient noises that pushed her through life led her to this one chair where she sat and rocked and waited.
the creaking of the wood floor, the shifting of her weight in the chair. the whirr of the fan. the slogging of the train. the snap of a door. all of it ambient and nothing.
but it put together simple life
and made it seem

bearable.

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