Contradictions That Make Sense
Jul 10, 2017 · 3 min read
Today I was pulling out of a gas station and a writhing man standing on the sidewalk with his shirt bunched around his neck caught my eye. He was half-jumping rhythmically, his ribs showing through chocolate skin, his belly distended, fingers grasping at the unseen.
On the same street I witnessed a thinly-veiled erection being thrust into nothingness underneath another large belly — this one worn by an investment banker waiting for a walk signal. The rest of his form was proportionally thick, not like the writhing man.


