Thursday, February 14, 2008

Handle with Care, I Dream Hard

I’ve been harbouring certain suspicions as of late. I had this book that I was convinced was cursed, it was with me as my plane shook violently over the Rockies, the pages soaked in sweat as I clutched it in freight. It was in my backpack when security guards hustled us across the tarmac in Tel Aviv trying to escape an unseen suicide bomber. It was all about other and outer worldly stuff and I started wondering if it was making my imagination run amok or if I was becoming more enlightened to the inconsistencies of our physical world.

I wanted to give it to a library or a used book shop but my girlfriend though it would be rude to pass on a cursed book to some unsuspecting soul. I thought about burying it in the sand or throwing it in the ocean or simply burning it and watch as its magic was rendered useless beyond the pages that housed it. But then it vanished, I figured it knew its time was coming and all I could do was kick myself for not administering that final punishing blow.

And yet it reaapeared, my brother brought it home yesterday from the Dominican.


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