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". . . and I'd like to thank the academy and my veterinarian, and my accountant and my . . ." Really, I'm just happy to be here today. No real reason why. Just happy to be here. Happy for another day to breathe and feel. I was walking here to the PC lab after eating at our "mom n' pop's" joint, just touching things (I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm a texture person--very tactile, you see). I imagined that I was Cassiel, the angel, given one day to come and experience earth with a body, and I was filled with the the insatiable desire to touch it all, to experience it. I touched a truck parked on the sidewalk (anywhere is free game in this country. They give you a license to drive and that doubles as a U-pass, the "unlimited, do whatever you want. After all, you're the one with the car" pass) and felt the cold metal. I touched a nylon flag hanging on a pole as it flirted with the wind. I felt the trunk of a tree. And the next one, and the next . . . ". . .and I'd like to thank my seventh grade science teacher Mr. Robertson . . ." And after I touched everything I could get my hands on, I rubbed my fingers together. which were by now quite dirty, and thought about the fact that this world is covered in dirt. Indeed we are made of the dust. I had the raw matter of life on my hands. Normally, I'd be very anxious to wash it off, but not today. Today I'm part of it. " . . . and I'd like to thank . . ." Dust to Dust--Scottro [2003-04-09]
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Last five letters Gathering [2009-09-04] ?2002, Scott & Celeste. |