17:30 · the small reading room
the cushion remembers a weight that left it not long ago. it
remembers it more clearly than it remembers any of the
afternoons spent empty.
whoever sat here read for some time. the lamp is still on.
the book is open, but you cannot see which book without
crossing the rug, and you have not yet decided whether you
will.
kitchen ·
bench ·
the breath ·
the mirror ·
solitude
— the cushion stayed warm longer than it should have.