haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

You have a choice of whether to make it work or keep it broken. And you elect to keep it
broken, as if a ticket to attention. The pile of pieces that no longer connect means Goodwill
must come to haul them in. Perhaps to simulate a working thing. Perhaps to show good
hope, if not quite faith. You had a choice that you begin no longer to continue having.
As the broken thing morphs into other things, and as you cease to watch, the center
point shifts to a different place. That place, no longer central, shifts from openness
to turf. Whose turf? The guesses gradually accumulate until no one possesses the
connections. And connections resemble possibilities of newly formulating things that turn
eventful. Heaps of new attention might collect or might collide. The inferences might
capsize. An individual such as yourself may have a role in changing forward or
reverting. Stasis no longer holds. An infinity of centers pivot to include remote spots
operating as distinctive centers yet unknown.

Rapport, lack of rapport, a story told from one perspective, an infinity of fiction

Sheila E. Murphy