#just {queue} it

if i was idk if i would be..

שבת שלום וחג פסח שמח לכולם

I have not yet decided whether I believe in ghosts. Still, I know that there is something present, a spirit or a figment of my imagination – echoes of a man who slipped through the cracks. I feel it, heavy in the air like lingering perfume: the concept of weight in a space I occupy. Perhaps he might have stood at this same window, once, and put his feet where mine now rest, or faced it on the other side and squinted to see in. I nearly feel as if our hands, through glass, might touch. Is it history I sense, passing between molecules in the fabric of this house, or him?