Everything was on sale.
The Antique shop
Was to close on Friday.
Dividing upon entrance, we sifted through the debris
Myriad of minute gestures
Small stones left behind on someone else’s shelves.
A noise of silenced memories.
I believe I got a bargain on the handmade book crafted
From printer paper and wallpaper,
A boy with a feather in his hat cut out and pasted on the cover.
The other book with illustrations of plants
prefaced with a quotation:
“Do you not think that all life comes from the mountain?”
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