Thursday, February 9, 2012

I accidentally shattered a plate today while I was tending to the dishwasher.

The bottom was still wet, and it simply slipped out of my hand.

I stood there for several minutes, staring at the jagged shards of ceramic material strewn across the kitchen floor, listening to the texture of the glassy reverberations ringing through my ears amid the sudden silence.

I stood there for several minutes, collecting myself; fighting against the overwhelming urge to to reach down and smash the rest of them one by one.

Several minutes is a long time to stare at a broken plate.

That sound was so...

...intoxicating.

1 comment:

  1. What do you say we do a "Zombieland" re-enactment?
    Go into an antique store and simple destroy every breakable object?

    I believe, in the future, if I were able, I would buy a store out just to do that sort of thing.

    It is as I used to: Go out into the woods and simply scream. Take useless objects and shatter them against the trees, of which still stand tall and willingly take everything you can throw at them. Trees are magnificent things, strong yet silent. Listening to your cries and accepting of your violence. Friendly things, trees.

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