Friday, July 31, 2015


I watched a man insert a quarter into a block of dry ice. The quarter shook and shook like it was in terrible pain as it went through the process of sublimation. I hope that I am not a quarter someday, and that some man doesn’t touch me and do terrible things with me this way,  but if I am, I hope he just takes me out of his pocket and spends me, since I am a quarter, for a Coca-Cola or a perhaps a bag of chips, for this is what I was meant for.

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