(December 13, 2001)
The careful ink glides across the page, guided yet uncontrolled, flowing unbound like spooked horses bolting from a gunshot. The writer frowns, mistaking her fate for her choice. She foolishly sees the chaos that the pen evokes as having potential depth, teeth grinding as she muddles the mess further. Her words do not obey her thoughts, but instead spiral away, eddies of mist giggling on the breeze.