And Then I Fell Out the Window

Life, examined and punted around


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The Morning After

Your November 1sts can happen any day of the year if you did a living statue performance the day before. You wake up slowly on a bright blue Sunday, makeup still smudged between eyelashes despite last night’s scrubbing. Your wig sits in a basket. Sunlight streams through the window and the day is new and untouched and you are yourself again, and it feels especially wonderful to be yourself again.