Today I decided to let the dishes sit in the dish washer a little longer, the laundry wait to be hung, and the vacuum to be silent. There are more urgent things at the present moment.
Shifting, grazing, burrowing into fibers. I am time travelling and listening to each scrap. They talk about long winters, speechless merchants, crooked yellow houses, un spoken truths, hidden dreams. They are buzzing like the sleepy bugs that are swarming outside. I am recharged as I untangle my beloved scraps.
And as always through the mess comes a foundation. Stepping stones leading up a pathway to home. My own place. My little crooked house.
And I continue on, grabbing, returning, looking, placing, removing; until something else feels right and fits.
I am safe here, engulfed by warmth. I am home.
Within this cyber world I am known as Wooni, a creator of beasts, a lover of elephants.
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