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Sunday, November 6, 2016

Prism Wall

     He pulled the hoop over me and I found myself in a surreal cocoon. I was there, but apart. The separation in question was a prism wall.
     Twelvish, my best friend and I were at the science museum. I was standing in a bubble. 
     A bubble is many things save permanent. It is an event: ephemeral and extraordinary. Languid, the soap lies dormant and amorphous in its crass colored container. An agent must bring it into existence; it must be breathed into life. In this way it is like music and dance; incapable of self-execution.

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