Manhattan, NY (Self-portrait with assisted leaning)
There was a dollhouse, oddly enough, in front of my house last night. When I woke up, it was gone. Around the corner a mirror cracked a smile with the obvious scars of reservation and restraint crisscrossing and canceling one another. Following up on this mystery, an answer answers itself by the sheen of its presence bubbling up in conversation. Whichever way we lean, there will be no symmetry except through history, which remains a constant between was and will.