Wednesday, October 31, 2007


He stared at the ceiling and the ceiling stared back. Its two drunken eyes, one larger than the other, glowing mildly, contentedly, stalking and preying upon the carpet and everything else that lies below. Their spacial placement on the ceiling stank of nepotism, yet were stunning under the gaze of someone who had just begun to recognize the beauty underneath the banal, sending visceral streams of a realization that patterns of life can sometimes emerge from within the motionless serenity that marks this plastic environment.