to play with space and time
I’ve done it; I’ve filled the bottom layer of one suitcase with clothes and crap I know I won’t need until California. The tangibility of it all is frightening; I don’t want to leave, and I especially don’t want to pay exorbitant shipping fees for the extra crap I’ve accumulated. Other things that I don’t want include the following:
- a giant chandelier covered in wet turquoise paint to suddenly descend from the ceiling above me
- a debt consolidation plan
- the eternal darkness of inter-galactic space
- to be hassled by Customs officials about the small quantities of alcohol I’ll be underagedly carrying in my luggage
- to be attacked by miniature bunnies
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