All of these fleeting recollections
A glimpse of a remembrance in my peripheral
Can only be seen if not searched out directly
They are ingrained in the rotting wallpaper
They are flaking away in the peeling paint
Or disintegrating with the dead mouse in the cabinet
Yet, these little testimonials of life cloak themselves in the growing mold spores and the intertwining vines fracturing the window sill, and the light that pours in through rusted windows, illuminating the dust that hangs heavy in the air, irradiating the dance between rebirth and decomposition.
Yes, there is life here in this house, if you look you won't see it. It is obscured in Dilapidation.
zo zo, your blog is gobbledigook.
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