Meeting a kunoichi in the ruins of familiar stomping grounds. A strange dissonance in having outlived stone and concrete. The death of a dedicated courtyard over bureaucratic months. Shrugging off malaise, and demonstrating discipline to a diminutive Oriental of Three-Halves. The exhaustion of wringing oneself dry of weakness. Spitting out mouthfuls of self-conscious anxiety. Finding abandoned tennis balls on a roof long-unvisited. Watching the meditation of a familiar stranger from one hundred yards. A shattered square of plastic as a prescient microcosm of the inevitable ruin. Represented again, a stone's throw away.
10:25 p.m. - 2019-04-02
Recent entries:
Claimed Ruination - 2019-04-24
Insufficient Words - 2019-04-24
Pulling Syrah - 2019-04-10
While Away - 2019-04-10
Mixjumble - 2019-04-02
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