I walk in boldly to this pivoting center where there are no rooms, much room unclearly bounded, liminal, a thin membrane.
As if I were a performer.
(Free association has a lot of start up costs these days. There’s the computer, the internet connection, the external hardware devices. The software. And, time.)
In movies, people scrounge junk piles of broken technologies, parts and metal, to repurpose planned obsolescence not because they want to be greener but because they need to survive.
I like to sew and haven’t, not since I heaved out my closeted sewing machine and tore apart that book of poems all about love to craft something new.