After spending the evening carving
styrofoam into the Himalayas for Vance's diorama, I am wondering if I will
ever be able to clean up all the
styrofoam bits! Oh, the static-
clinginess of
styrofoam, loosened into the world! Once you've cut it's outer smoothness it's all tiny spheres - on the table, the floor, my clothes, Vance's lashes, clinging, clinging, clinging.
There's a poem in there somewhere.
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