The metaphorical omnipresent ink blots on your office stationery, pale blue undertones in the placid, balanced silence, for you I'd be some of such firm unshakable facts. Be it your favorite Beatles song, playing inside your head in the same nonsensical loop, or your rugged laziness--which as a matter of fact is laziness all the same- or perhaps, pointless knowledge hoarded through the time, EVERYTHING invisible and yet there, can be me. I don't deny my absence anymore nor do I proclaim the the distance out loud. Fact of the matter is, be it those anonymous thumbprints on your glasses or the tiny missing button on one of your cuffs, proclaim my person. with a plethora of many such souvenirs there lies an unmistakable evidence that I, somewhere in the warm, cottonwool covered alcoves of your mind exist. That it is not just you but a little bit of me (an the uninhibited cliche) that I bid farewell at the airport tonight..
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