Holding my hand above my eyes I let my fingers drop and hang like the tendrils of ivy

I watch as water slides downwards, building up bulges on each of the tips. What started out as grey goo turns into glistening spheres of bright ceramic white at the blink of an eye.

And just when I’m starting to make out a shape, a form – something! – inside this liquid oracle, it drops, down into the water from which it formed, taking with it all hope of ever finding out what lay inside.

I thought that taking a shower would have been liberating. Instead it left me profoundly depressed.

When you can’t find an abyss to stare into, the abyss finds you instead.

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