These Walls are My Skin
I have been lighting fires. I appreciate the light, but I grin at what rests when it's gone. Charcoal is a skeleton.
Someone told me a secret about these bones. If you bury them away from the light of the fire, everything burns in the heat, but the charcoal respects the original form. A shadow is born.
Subtraction sometimes just reveals what was already there. Great equalizer.
