^ (n a v i g a t e) ^
8:53 p.m., 2003-11-03
at halfway the miles dried up and curled the roads beneath me to meet the path as a halved bellows. all the ink and gazes swirl in eddies to drain you to me or me to you in opposition to either reality. we created our own and destroyed.nothing is without a lifespan, otherwise chronology is out of a job.
is it the fear of forgetting or the perverse masochism of nostalgia that heaps our lives into piles unsorted and undusted; left just so. unchanged and untouched and museum-quality. useless to everyone but us?
