snow.html


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    <title>Snow | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>

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        <h1 class="title">Snow</h1>
        

        
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    <section class="thing prose">
    <p><em><a href="fire.html">I don’t care if they burn</a></em> he wrote on his last blank notecard. He’d have to go to the Office Supply Store tomorrow after work.</p>
    <p>He looked at what he’d written. He’d been thinking about this for a while, felt the frustration build slowly like a <a href="serengeti.html">thundercloud</a> in the back of his mind. He thought he should write something else on the card, but everything he thought of seemed too confessional or too real compromising. <a href="lappel-du-vide.html">He didn’t want anyone, not even the notecards, to know what he was thinking.</a> He decided to try for more of an interview with the paper.</p>
    <p><em>Why?</em> asked the notecard. <em>Because there is nothing important on any of them</em> he wrote back. <em>What do you mean? You have some good stuff in that top drawer there.</em> He looked in the top drawer. It was stuffed full of notecards in no organization. He could see bits and pieces of thoughts like leaves crunched underfoot in autumn. <em>It will take so much organization</em> he wrote.</p>
    <p><em>Why is organization important? Remember the trees, <a href="axe.html">how they formed rows</a> without trying. No matter how the ideas fall, they make something. <a href="100-lines.html">The snow</a> <a href="weplayedthosegamestoo.html">does that too</a></em> he wrote. <em>It doesn’t try to make anything but it does.</em></p>
    <p><em>No the snow is different</em> the notecard was annoyed. <em>The snow is a blank canvas that humans build into shapes or doppelgangers. It makes nothing on its own.</em></p>
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