Notes from a Forgotten Artist (98 words)

I looked at the same world, attentive

Everything was an invitation

People were beautiful pains in the ass

They were looking elsewhere

I touched the same materials with my hands

I didn't know what would happen to the work

I dreamed it churning back into soil

I was attentive

I looked

I imagined what it was like in your time.

If what I made disappeared, could I still speak to you somehow?

Could you hear me through our selfsame attentiveness,

our indistinguishable looking?

I dared to hope

oh, dear beautiful world:

let all for nothing still be something