Carl eats the ocean.

December 8th, 2002, 12pm

It tastes of sand and salt and maybe a little dog drool.

Because my body is not a machine, because I cannot both run and engage in complex thought yet, reflection only happens in the cool down. As my breath relaxes and the heat dissipates (when I started running, no one mentioned that bodies could be so capable of burning- how did no one mention this?) I work through the difficult things, the knots I am too tired to avoid.

Today, there’s nothing to unravel, so I watch the fog - Karl - as he enjoys his brunch.

Ryan, Chris, Fabio, Stephen and 3 others said thanks.

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Zoelle Egner

Digital literature. Alternate reality games. Science fiction. Cocktails. Octopuses. Excessive pondering. By day I do the technology thing. (Sometimes by night, too.)

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