Ship of one hundred pieces. And each and every piece replaced, over time. What was the dilemma again? Whether the current ship counted as the original ship? She considered this idea in reverse, tracing with the tip of her left index finger, the long crooked years ago old scar running the length of the top portion of her right index finger.
Dismantling the past.
Digging through the trash, that’s how she’d cut herself. On pieces of broken glass whilst trying to second thought reclaim an old shirt. Reluctant relinquishing. The first piece of herself to go.
Still, an original scar.
I’m this week (last minute) linking up with Tara’s 100 word challenge, here:
This was fun!