Fold after fold I go on with the steps, breaking the paper with my fingernails. These acts of tiny destruction bringing solace to my lonely existence…and I count days for birds and birds for days…one bird done for a moment of solitude gone…and this bird, though it is…it is but a piece of broken paper…broken in places by my own hands to resemble a free being of flight, but in reality only a by product of the days that I have spent here in silent solitude.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The broken bird
Fold after fold I go on with the steps, breaking the paper with my fingernails. These acts of tiny destruction bringing solace to my lonely existence…and I count days for birds and birds for days…one bird done for a moment of solitude gone…and this bird, though it is…it is but a piece of broken paper…broken in places by my own hands to resemble a free being of flight, but in reality only a by product of the days that I have spent here in silent solitude.
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