In the morning I am brushing my hair and scraping my tongue and wondering if there is a letter for me in the mail. If there is a letter for me in the mail, that means a new existence of my name is somewhere floating around. There aren’t many of those these days, except by my own doing when signing postcards and emails. I went through a drawer in my childhood bedroom recently that was filled with letters I’d kept over the years and thought about how it is probably the largest collection of my name aggregated in one place.
My Lazy Hippocampus
My Lazy Hippocampus
My Lazy Hippocampus
In the morning I am brushing my hair and scraping my tongue and wondering if there is a letter for me in the mail. If there is a letter for me in the mail, that means a new existence of my name is somewhere floating around. There aren’t many of those these days, except by my own doing when signing postcards and emails. I went through a drawer in my childhood bedroom recently that was filled with letters I’d kept over the years and thought about how it is probably the largest collection of my name aggregated in one place.