Background Notes — My Scissors
I know I didn’t write it like it was supposed to be written.
When most all of my memories except for my words have been lost, the words I try to use try to act like replacements.
Like a lover one settles for because the real one got lost, that never really does work out. The real thing can’t ever be replaced or reinvented. I shouldn’t even pretend to try.
But this much I meant exactly as I have said: This one is not about my scissors.