[“Statues come to life only in a world where the living are always themselves on the verge of turning into statues.” – Kenneth Gross]
I felt a tinge of stillness, just now, rigidity, a halt to the constant grinding of my internal organs, their everlasting passacaglia. Stone is coming, the statue phase of my life. No more worries about where my next meal is coming from; not ever, now.
Only an alarm of pigeons.
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