a hole is a hole, empty, nothing.
like most systems, it longs for a state of equilibrium, at least able to support its surroundings.
she is called She and she calls her hole Hole. She fills Hole with activity: checking the phone, looking through drawers, retracing steps, wondering what happened. She finds that busyness helps, and she is hole full of busy all day. there is learning, working, doing and nonstop chatter.
Hole cannot breathe so Hole kicks She's guts and punches her dully in the throat. She is in constant pain so She stuffs Hole with junk things like the internet.
Hole is supremely patient and waits for the quiet and stillness of night that comes like true noon to true noon. She can't fight physics and eventually crawls into bed. this is when Hole really shines, empty and expanding and wide open, releasing the sadness She's been stuffing all day. Hole is a nighttime superstar. She hates Hole so fiercely and all Hole wants is love, to belong. She and Hole cry together and sometimes sleep wins.
they wake in the morning puffy eyed and listen to music. today Hole wants steely dan and She's okay with that.
image © Zachary Rossman
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