the breath exits
warm and moist,
with the resonance of an angel

A beacon.

this.
moment.

is the reason you exist.

the universe affirming your life with

yes

Every once in awhile, in the shop, you remember why you started making an item in the first place. Then the items imperfections and all the other constant, tiny insults life throws are of no consequence.

When i first saw it, or at least sensed it's presence, it's cold blackness is what struck me, possessing the kind of dark nothingness that is able to pull the warmth from your core -- existing as both thought and a towering monolith that does not reflect light -- always absorbing, never giving.

It made a constant droning sound, just out of human perception. The sound of doom. Insect-like. Mechanical. 

Reaching out, palm against it's surface, there was no perceptible feeling -- my hand just stopped moving forward -- no sensory input to suggest that my hand had reached it's destination.

It was difficult to imagine that this thing was within me, that it is actually a part of who I am.

Jeremy: It feels as if everything that could have happened, did happen. There seems to be ghost images of these othernesses constantly playing out as nostalgia and regret that get in the way of the 'right now'.

Becky: Wow. You are so full of yourself sometimes.

Jeremy: Yeah, I know.

i always assumed...
there would be a day...
when i would grow up.

when i would toss a stuffed animal
--onto
----the
-------ground

and it's soul would

~~~~~~~~shatter~~~~~~~~~~

and then i would sit at the dinner table properly

and a million happy and sad voices would converge into adulthood