(From Little Potato: moss, diagrams, letters, colors, quincunx, more).
After a bad day, I came home to a small, meticulously-bundled world on my doorstep; it took me out of the large, carelessly-arranged world in which my day had spilled out earlier, and I liked it so much I didn’t know what to do.
That’s when cigarettes come in handy. I smoked one and read the enclosed essay, letters, and poetic fragments before silently thanking its creator, who is at once meticulous and accident-prone, such that this sublime world had both precise details almost too fragile to believe and an unintentional overwash of Orangina smudging many of its pages. That, of course, made it even better.
