after a summer of attending music festivals, reading fantasy novels on buses, hiking up mountains, winning pub quizzes, and waiting in gloomy Irish sea villages

now a September of floors swept daily and plants dutifully watered; the same film paused multiple times; days restructured according to essay deadlines

the matter is time

time as matter

the first tomato; eye pencil shavings; scribblings in daily planners; receipts tossed in the recycling bin; dust (of my flesh, of my days) swept up and binned

memory, matter from time, somehow independent of my self

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