I’m aware that it’s standard practice for the Department of Transportation to prune tree branches to keep them from interfering with power lines. In city limits in the south, it’s nothing to see trees that are full of life on one side while on the opposite side, all that is there are dead knotholes where branches once gave life to green.
Picture me, or you for that matter, suspended in mid-air. Suspended for a mere split second where the aperture chose to forever immortalize me. There I am. Or there you are. Are you flying or falling?
As you finger the edge of your half-filled or almost emptied glass, thinking on this, I’m stuck in mid-air wondering too. In this moment, I have no answers and will settle for being occupied with the curiosity of the albino geckos that have begun to gather outside my door awaiting their dinner of insects drawn to artificial light.