I saw it going for the tiled floor like it had nowhere else to go and I saw it making that decision but my brain didn't send signals fast enough for me to catch it before it hit the ground
with a predictable noise it landed on the hard floor and decided to divide itself into thousand pieces
my kitchen floor was covered with millions of 3-year-old bread crumbs and trillions of plastic and metal pieces
all these individual pieces managed to position themselves on the floor in just 2 seconds
so this afternoon i went out to buy a new one and me the miser found a toaster for just $7.95
I came home and put my frozen piece of bread in it and pressed the lever down
and the room started to smell like plastic
not because the toaster was melting (i'm in denial that cheap things can break easily)
but because it's never been used yet
it's sort of like hello-i'm-new smell and it somehow made me feel uncomfortable
i felt like i was thrown into a new environment
so i wanted to smell something old and familiar
i rummaged my storage box in my closet and found all my art research workbooks from highschool
i buried my nose in them and inhaled the smell of paper oilpaint pencil pen and the art room
i found a self portrait that i've done and got goosebumps at how scary i looked in this etching piece
that serial killer look on my face
but the smell of the ink was so comforting
Oil paint from the previous page is stuck on my head, as you can see
this is the original photograph
around my portrait i wrote about discovering myself
it was mortifyingly ridiculous i had to erase what was written there using photoshop
i was embarrassed for my past self but was a little glad that i found it shameful now
and although the book is full of juvenile bullshit
i'm still very fond of the smell of my past
and the toast was yummy.
