the woodstove..

the whole world was transformed in a matter of days. the silence became somewhat soothing to me at first. pure white snow had fallen from the heavens while we all slept. the flakes were soft and fluffy white. it was breathtaking that something could transform the filth of the ghetto into a white majestic wonderland. i built a fire in the woodstove. i took my time enjoying the ritual of creating warmth. it felt soo good not to rush. to feel my hands seperate sections of newspaper from the rolled up edition that rarely made it out of the plastic bag the paperboy had delivered it in and crumple it and twist it in my special way and lay it flat on the bottom before i lay the kindling on top of it and light the match. like an infant i fed it the kindling. the crackling flames ate up my hate as i fed it's existence life