On walks, I often see scattered piles of pants,
shirts, or socks,
shorts, or jackets.
By walking paths, under bridges, near bushes, at intersections,
in alleys, near parking lots, by fences.
What is the story? Do people dematerialize and reconstruct in other places, leaving clothes behind? Are clothes the first layer to go when change is needed?
I ponder the transient nature of life.
Everything is left behind.
About a month after he died, my dad’s shoes, shirt, and pants were stacked in a small pile in my back room. They looked like he had just evaporated out of them.
M. Petersen
knocked it out of the park, babygirl- love it