one cycle rotating upon the fixity of a determined haste. one cycle to resume & rebound, until another one begins to curl & unfurl around the very same fixity. what happens in betwixt: a conglomeration of particles, each relating a story – sliding, colliding, moulding onto the next.
i am neither the string nor the bead; i am not the knot preventing the trickling upon the ground. i wear the twine around my neck with the stories’ heartbeat near the jugular, each cycle a padong’s brass coil to support my crown.
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