I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at three weeks worth of toenail clippings.I see beauty in their soft curl. A village of my former body parts before I cut them off. The mystery of the ephemeral nature of being human.
I pluck out my navel lint and feel its texture. I place it in a drawer with piles of other lint from days gone by.
Someone bashes their head against the roof of their car and staggers to the ground. Lovely. Someone loses control of their walker, which slams into another on his phone, sending it flying off through a sewer grate. A harsh dance of fortune.
Study the perfect symnetry of a bed bug, the ability to crawl into your tiniest orifices.
I want to jump a fence at the zoo and hug a ground sloth. A camel's drool and its pungent aroma are just as beautiful as a sunset.
I must stop and scratch myself. It's just bed bugs doing their job.
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