There was a small sliver of a house that never existed that I chiseled out with my keys and gave away once, long ago. I found it again, it was in a pile of dust and dirt and destined for the refill litter bin with the poetry filled empty coke cans. It never was, so it didn't matter, not to anyone, except me, but I'm good at rewriting continuity within my own mind.
Photo - N
Words - S
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