I’ve been spending my days and nights at the beach. There’s a beach in my mind and along its shores, sea shells float upon the incoming tide and are deposited on the still life table where they pose majestically while sitting among a variety of brightly colored cloths.
And I stare at them. And they would perhaps stare back at me, except that the mollusk has long since flown the coop.
So I contemplate them. At long last I will frame the drawings, and send them back into the ocean of the world, where they can float into someone else’s consciousness and bask in the gaze of a mollusk-mesmerized spectator. And mollusk magic will hold sway. Again.