Sunday, February 25, 2007

817.

Try as she might, she could not thinking about ants.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

816.

Ashes on the forehead, a reminder that we are dust.

815.

Her MacBook was quiet, so quiet that she couldn't tell that it was breathing, except for the throbbing white light.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

814.

I can't read her blog. It makes me jealous of everything I'm not.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

813.

A ball of sock cuddled in the cup of a bra.

Friday, February 02, 2007

812.

Gone are the days of wind-up clocks, where time moved languid and progressively slow.

811.

She wore a ring so that she could fidget when she needed to.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

810.

Sealed with a kiss.