Cells

When I look at myself in the mirror I see trillions of breathing cells. Microscopic pieces to the most complicated 3D puzzle, eating–atom by atom–the delicious ham sandwich I ate an hour ago. Dividing and dying, and I’m powerless to affect it in any meaningful way. What I see in the mirror will eventually gather on my houseplants, as the circus that is my body adds a new line to an old wrinkle.

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