Conterary Magazine

  • Unless words count, I am not the kind of person who collects. But lately, I have found myself noticing—taking, treasuring—coloured shapes I used to walk upon.

    Perhaps I have the snake to thank. Before I saw it sliding, fast across the path, before I froze and watched it simply melt away, I hadn’t thought to fix my wandering gaze on ground. Nor noticed what I had been stepping on.