me and my cousins, sitting in the front room at my grandparents’ house. we joke about how we don’t want to adjust the couch cushions because we’re afraid of what we might find. this place hasn’t been cleaned in years. i sit on the floor in front of the couch laughing. i look up at the ceiling and notice that it is caving in. reaching through the ceiling and looking right at me was a stiff and decaying corpse. i screamed, my cousins screamed, we all giggled. one of us was going to have tell them that a dead man was about to fall through the floor of their bedroom and into their living room. i wanted to do it in the least embarrassing way. i mean, OBVIOUSLY they must know they have a corpse under their bed, right? but i got the distinct impression that they were unaware of how decrepit their home was. and i wanted to be sensitive to that.
in australia. we’re on a family vacation. we stop at a souvenir shop and i’m excited by what i thought was a display of shakers and sistrums. but they turned out to be decorated chocolate versions. all of them except one. it was a stick with a curve that had some flex to it. a single cut of leather was attached to it. beautifully, simplistically cut. i rode the train through the desert with my arm out the window, watching this abstract bird flap its leather wings so serenely as the world went quiet and slow.