An unavoidably bad day and catching a ride with the world's most boring human.
I unwind my mind. Trim flaps of superfluous scraps like fat from muscle, bleed the crevasses dry and pan the glimmering nougat dry creek river bed underneath. Use a sieve and a hounds-tooth comb. Press the crumbs into some discernible shape and leave them to dry, to age, to ferment under a harsh light.
When the cracks show up, I squeeze them tight again.
Time travel and it’s thirteen years ago, early Spring 2010:
I am 24, living in Mammoth Lakes, CA.