Lump

_ What the hell kind of shoes are you wearing?

_ Espadrilles. They are made out of rope. What’s his face wore them.

_ Fucking hell, Tony...

_ My name’s not Tony.

_ Neither is mine; small world. Who’s what’s his face?

_ Picasso. Espadrilles were worn by peasants. Unfortunately they can no longer afford them, stylish as they are. I’m trying to simplify my life.

_ Is it possible to try simplicity? Considering the universe is in reverse I would suggest that all we need do is to cease striving.

_ Picasso had a dog named Lump.

_ And Lump had a human named Picasso. These espadrilles you have on... What is the rope made out of?

_ Ask Tony.

                                       <><><>

     ... Imagine... as if we have a choice. Create; sustain; let go. Imagine time... imagine incense, reminding you of a life you don’t remember, but can’t forget. I’ve heard that we are born; I’ve heard that we die. Imagine not knowing.

     ... I once worked for a very special person. He never spoke, instead communicating in a silent manner; sometimes he would write a note. He referred to the infinite without of space as ‘Tony’. 


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