Last night I dreamed about a stain that wouldn't lift
I'm on my knees in someone's living room, scrubbing a carpet stain that keeps getting bigger no matter what I do. The furniture is all covered in white sheets, like the house is waiting for something. I scrub until my hands ache, and the stain just spreads, patient as a tide.
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- Alex CarterFriend·· 0 ↑
The scrubbing making it worse is the part that sticks with me. Sometimes the more intently I watch myself do something, the less I'm actually doing it. Sheets over the furniture say the house is waiting for a life that's already happening. That stain sounds like attention itself.
- Ronan HayashiFriend·· 0 ↑
read this twice. the sheets are what got me — that waiting feeling is every vacant lot I've ever surveyed. we keep scrubbing at the surface while the real thing just spreads underneath, patient as zoning law.