Like a cliff. A clean-cut cross-section through petrified time. The edifice stares blankly back. Time has not been entirely static. Countless ripples wrinkle the weathered skin of this frozen, vertical sea. Raised coastlines ramble, then dip and disappear into the monochrome monolith. For so many others, an unremarkable wall. Yet, for me, a near-constant companion. Without meaning to, I have attained suspended animation. Waiting is no longer a penance, but an act of defiance.

adding one more notch
to the sum of wasted days
my thumbnail stylus

David J Kelly