EAVESDROPPING

Little leaf skittering in the wind, winding its way through the few feet that dare brave the day in these conditions. Elevating voices from a nearby bar philosophically fellating one another with curled lips and aural spurs. Lose an eye following the organic debris from bough to street. Lend an ear to the dreams of the drinking youth, thinking they'll save the day in these dim conditions.

Quicksand

It's not that I am reckless, it's just that I have a talent for identifying soft places and walking straight into them.

ALL THE GRAINS GATHER

All the grains gather neatly toward the center before plummeting to the pile below. Each granule takes its turn: this one water-sliding into the unknown; that one, lazily rolling over its kin; those two finding their way through together.