So many things, colors. So many signs, shops, people, so many articles in the shops, so many handles on so many doors, so many shoes walking along the streets, so many coats, so much stitching in so many shoes, in so many garments, so many stones on the curb of so many sidewalks, so many details, a maelstrom of objects, of tiny details on these objects, all of these things I had amassed from the streets of the eighteenth of November, layer upon layer, so many that my mind had to cram them together, but I glided through it all with unaccustomed ease and found myself thinking how strange it was
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❤️ Reminded me of Pat Schneider’s poem, The Patience of Ordinary Thing
