Vestiges of Recognition

Me. On my knees on the floor of his studio. Scrambling through the onslaught of pills cascading from my purse. I have, squirrelled away inside the confines of my little black purse, pills for every occasion. Pills for your head, and pills for your stomach. Pills for when your throat’s dry, and pills for when you’ve drunk too much of your favorite thing. Pills for when you’ve drunk too little. Pills for when you’re full. And pills for when you’re empty. Pills for when you feel like dolling yourself up, and pills for quiet nights in. And yet, I can’t find it. Plod through them — pills for bellyaching and pills guaranteeing a good time. Pills to clear the fog behind your eyes. Pills that make me remember. <a href="https://medium.com/the-interstitial/vestiges-of-recognition-8bdc3adc0e50">Learn More</a>