An outside substance the body would normally would ignore.
There were eight people at my house not too long ago and we all fit around the kitchen table for breakfast. That day a reoccurring thought was there have never been eight people in this apartment before. And there have definitely never been eight people around this particular kitchen table. I have had the apartment for three years and the table for ten. So it was with no shred of hesitation that I blew half the strategic reserves of Polaroid peel-apart film (now made by Fuji). These three snaps seemed compelling enough to archive via scanning machine. EB took the best one, I thought, on top here. It’s from the autoimmune death trail that is north Bernal Hill.
