自 my 宅 home

The sticky-hooks I hung behind my kitchen stove-top are falling one-by-one in a large ruckus. 

Everyone has their little nook of controlled space in their life – a place where they’re at the advantage over others and can feel a sense of freedom with this. It may be a sports court, an office, the road, the woods; anything.

The kitchen is one of mine, and each of these falling utensils may as well have been a WWII-style shelling into my sense of control.
The wall is barren again, the hooks disposed of.
I’ll take this place back soon enough.

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