Love— Photographed by Tyler Buschman —

They told me it was the answer.  That no matter what it would, “find a way.”  Find a way?  Heh.  To disappear, maybe.  Down to nothing but a speck of a crumb.  “Find a way,” is something they say when they know it’s too late.  All I can do now is watch it unravel, one thread at a time.  But what’s time without worth?  Perhaps it’s the sneakiest evil.  Too much of it providing too little.  Yet here I stand, holding onto nothing more than one lonely thread.  It’s all I can do with the time we have left.

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