When she is alone in the restroom, the mushrooms seize her mind for a moment and the trees out the window twist and click and seem to whisper to her. She feels a shudder in the earth. Something volcanic perhaps? And she imagines smoke billowing up from under the earth, curling in cumulous clouds around the porcelain room. She shuts her eyes and sees gears and wheels spinning in a rainbow colors. “I’m off my my head,” she thinks and opens her eyes to find the familial ghosts twisting in the culs of smoke along a ladder of deoxyribonucleaic acid. They are looking down on her and she is looking up at them and then she pees and feels fairly normal.
When she comes back through the restaurant, she sees Pat making a ridiculous show of tasting the wine and then he nearly chokes on it and turns bright red in embarassment and blots his nose just as she comes through the glass door hiding a smile. She loves him at this moment more than ever. She can see the vulnerable little boy he was and not the cocky young man he has become. It is this frailty beneath his polished exterior that she is falling in love with: the delicate, breakable part of him. The thing that, infact, may already be broken.
the top two images are Library collabs fromSonja’s
starts. Here’s one before I got to it.
