surrounded by the implements of a life laid waste...
a dining table, jarrah, even in the half-light aglow, a polished, reddy wood... the apparatus of life strewn across it... laptop, wallet, keys, credit cards, ipod, cell phones; a few cd's, dvd's, books & comics; printouts of webart, photos; pens, pencils, sketches, writing paper covered in my scrawl...
implements i utilise to access that which upon this earth pertains to myself; objects i use to interact with the stimuli that colour and awake my experiential soul; tools i manipulate to create meaning for my existence...
but what is this space, this table of mine? ...the respository of the fuel for my talent, to set aflame? ...else a reflection of the emptiness of breath, the dying embers of creativity, to be laid bare by the darkness...
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