*** ‘Vignette City’ is an ongoing project of daily writing and urban photography ***
Things which are part of my life that I am uncomfortable with:
Microwave: I do not understand how this works. It seems nuclear-ish. So how is it on my kitchen counter? It is a box that makes micro-waves and I'm supposed to believe that it won't damage my daughters?
Refrigerator: It rumbles and gets hot along the back, but makes things cold? It gets hot and makes things cold? That is a principle I’m supposed to rely on? To keep my milk cold?
Light: Electric, I guess, if you want, like some people do, but I have candles and like them better.
Locks: I don’t fear the outside people; I have a shotgun. What do I need locks for?
Walls: I prefer the air, the night. I like the wind to lick my skin.
Dirt: I like to feel it on my flesh as it cool me.
Outside: where I prefer to be, nude.
Forest: where I wait, bathed in moist black soil, waiting.
Society: which I have left.
Buffets: which I can still see from here - their wane yellow city glow - but which I have never been invited to.
Bacon: which we do not have out here. But is pigs? Who looked at pigs and said, "My mouth"?
Toast: which I have not had in a very long time. Crisp, I remember it being. Comforting, in a small way.
The blessing of human contact: no. Not recently.
Daughters: once. Then. Not now.
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