Amelia Frank

Every day I push the boulder up the mountain and wait for something of epic proportions to interrupt my routine. On the way up I plan to touch the sun. On the way down I consider sinking into the ocean. I tell myself stories along the way: once upon a time there was an enormous antagonist, wild with apathy, crying out for his mother. I convince myself that my mossless stone stands in for a certain witness until it occurs to me that the force compelling me upward also compels every other creature that walks the earth. I hang my hat on the corner of the sky, and nothing suspends me.

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