Everywhere I go,
there are people.
Little people, big people,
large people, small people.
I envision I am
taking them all in,
breathing their essence into my
brain,
bottling them up in
invisible, infinitely small
vials, for
reference.
I like to think that I could
pull one out, anytime:
but of course, there is the
modification, and tinkering.
It is all such strange and
interesting work.
There is just no place for them
yet, or
ever.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson