These Things I Do

The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut. I dust a beautiful porcelain lady. My Nikon needs to be taken out of its case like a coal black memory. I pick up a quartz crystal, put it to my eye don't know why. I drive out at night with no aim or destination. I go to the Oriental grocery emporium. Cooking into the unknown is my space travel. These things I do are tramlines, These things I do are rituals for the safe-side of my mind.