Notes in Transit
Muddled ruminations after a whirlwind DIY weekend.
AIRPORT
Public restrooms depress me. The bright fluorescent bulbs that only manage to cast a dim light. A solar eclipse. The lines, the cabinets, the repetition, the scratches on the wall, the way toilet paper gets brutally ripped across the end of the roll. You would think we’re all animals.
Though, who am I to complain? Relativity’s a bitch.
IN FLIGHT
The cards fluttered across the screen, beckoning the flurries of synchronized swims, arms and legs intersecting the water in perpetual fluid motion. Or better, forget glimmering white caps and suits. Geese. Not the movement, but the streaks of lake that trail their path. The deep furrows that slowly build up into a mountain of small pebbles, matter moving from one place to another like warm clay.
The fireworks soon confettied across the green felt screen as the words “CHAMPION” sparkled from left to right and back again. Likewise, the player’s shoulders shimmied side to side, fist pumps of the hefty figure resolute in self confidence. Oh, the sweet victory of Solitaire.
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