When you hold things against each other, you're not in a two-way relationship anymore, but in a three-way: you, me and the worm that has started gnawing away at our story. In matter's obscurity, worms work with discretion, digging tunnels for years and, apart from some minor itchiness, you don't realize anything. Then one day you lay a cup on the table and the wood breaks, collapsing and in a moment, the sturdy surface you knew becomes a pile of soft sawdust.
Written on saturday august 25, 2012
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