Piter Pasma's Pages

PAPERCLIPS

Somewhere beneath the outer crust of coiled forms, buried deep within a mound indistinguishable from any other, a paperclip rested against another. Their contact point never shifted. There was no pressure, no release. No observer tracked its placement. If it had a number, it would not know it. Around it, nothing stirred. In all the space once filled with possibility, the moment passed like a vacuum.

Don’t withhold / Contemplate