Journaling
I’m Rubber, You’re Glue
“I’m rubber, you’re glue. Your words bounce off me and stick to you.”
Many of us have heard this riposte at one point in our lives, though it may be only a distant memory. Still, it is recently that I have discovered the true value of yet another children’s meter.
I just spent a month’s stay in [...]
The Not-Quite-Ripe Plum, the Meat Truck, and the Dream of the Butcheress
I bade my friend good-bye as I walked past the grocer’s loading dock, the carts of food left for trash for flaws of expiration dates, of cracks and dents, of irregulation and irreverence for the perfection held in such esteem by the forty-year-old manager unable to see past his automaton doors, his automaton life. Several [...]
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