If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little - somebody who is obsessed by Making. -e.e. cummings
Do you ever think about all the things we make when we think we are making something else? The snowflake left overs? The glitter stuck in the grooves of the kitchen floor? The layers upon layers? The fingerprints?
What shadows do we cast? What beauty do we sweep away?
Do you ever think about all the things we make when we think we are making something else? The snowflake left overs? The glitter stuck in the grooves of the kitchen floor? The layers upon layers? The fingerprints?
What shadows do we cast? What beauty do we sweep away?
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