Envelopes Are Shed Skin
“Envelopes are shed skin, left behind and created to be discarded, serving their task as a vessel from sender to receiver, they exist only to be disposable. They have no value of their own and must borrow the value of its contents to warrant itself, parasitically living off the materials inside itself.”
First the insides are ripped out and the envelope is left, alone, to rot. The city, however, found another use for it and used it as a makeshift bin. The envelope became a refuge for other discarded modes of transportation and commodification.
Then the weather takes its toll, the rain chewing at its remains, the wind tugging at its fibres.
its like watching it grow old
until all that’s left is the spine of tape used to adhere it to the surface
Unlike this blog, the shell of skin decays and falls away, the material is aged and with every passing moment it decays.
Unless, of course, you count the fact that one day wordpress may no longer exist, or the fact that your screen is currently ageing, rendering these words slightly different by the second, or that with each passing moment the code for this page (and the inevitable other pages you’re on) is constantly building higher and higher, into an impossible heap, slowly slowing you down.
Maybe the material fades away, due to decay, and the immaterial fades in obscurity through perpetual production.
grain upon grain, one by one, and one day, suddenly there’s a heap, a little heap, the impossible heap
and this is just me, adding to the pile.