Friday, April 30, 2010

A small room above a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.

At the head of the bed, a stack of books, on top of which sits an orange peel curled around a crumpled tissue, and below that, a pencil, its tip broken.

Somewhere there is a piece of lead gathering dust. What would a spider make of it? Would it investigate, or would it be repelled by its properties? Maybe neither. Maybe there are no spiders in this room.

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