You burn me and go back to sleep.
I squat, naked from the waist down,
Splashing water on myself.
Using a baby bottle like a cup.
A dead fuse.
A disappointment.
Those aren't firecrackers.
It's just the pipes.
I want to share something with you. When I read this (the following quote is totally taken from a person on a forum discussing typewriters) I imagine the piece the person is describing, it's weight, it's feeling in my hand, and then connecting it with another piece, etc. Try it here, no. Rotate, here, nope. And eventually, when you spin two pieces around in your hands enough, a pattern emerges. Clicks into place. You instantly know how to do this the next time. The connection is made and there is no hesitation. You have learned how to feel out a portion of metal in your bare hands. I see gears, I watch them shift. And again, and again. I imagine what tool is behind the scene, making this happen. But in reality, I am still in the beginning stages of understanding a machine I find to be the most beautiful and useful. The near and dear. dismantled, ready for repair What I am saying is I really do not know what the piece looks like or how much room it takes up in my pa...
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