“The Manikin Spot”

Like a swaddled infant, I only gaze straight ahead, my “view” always subject to someone else’s placement . On rare occasion, I’ve been enabled to witness passers by on a street or isle. Small dogs in purses, grandmothers carrying birthday cards, young lovers, politicians, all a brief reprise before an inevitable exit back into storage, waiting on the flick of a single light switch to illuminate the horrors of disassembly and reconstruction.

Time in storage is indeed an advanced level of Hell, leaving only room for silent inward reflection. The only panorama being the darkness, forced to accept the possibility of never being reassigned….. waiting on heaven, which could be something like standing with legs again taking in an aquarium or some cutlery demonstration booth.