November 27, 2019
Every now and again she checks in on herself for stuff she needs to dispatch. Like patting one's pockets for small trash. These small things, when they accumulate, can cause minor problems that will then turn into larger ones. One may think it's insignificant for now, then eventually they're caught by surprise by how unwieldy and unnavigable the "minor problem" have become. It's a Fibonacci sequence of problems, all sorts. Beautiful, confusing, insistent. Today she checks her so-called pockets and finds nothing and everything. It's a riot in there again. She takes off her pants, swims into the sea.