broken

To­day I went to the Berlin IKEA and bik­ing home I was think­ing about how hap­py I was that I could now have peo­ple over for din­ner, when I went over a bump and heard a crack.

Not both of my new plates, but only one split apart.

Im­me­di­ate­ly I start­ed think­ing of what this must mean.

Was I meant to eat alone – was the uni­verse rec­og­niz­ing that what I have on my plate these days is bro­ken glass? I de­cid­ed that it sim­ply meant I should not bike quick­ly with cheap­ly made goods, and in­stead en­joyed my time alone as I walked home.

It seems the world is with­out mean­ing and we choose how to in­ter­pret what hap­pens.

—car­nelian king

Flom­mist Car­nelian King is a per­form­ing artist, prod­uct de­sign­er, toy mak­er and non­bi­na­ry clown cur­rent­ly liv­ing in Berlin. Copy­right © 2017 Car­nelian King.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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