Let me begin again. The day was cooler than I thought, and the meeting ran long. Afterward, I sat alone in the room at the conference table to reflect on life. I pretended I was a wealthy nobleman and the half-empty coffee cups and saucers were my subjects. The two dented coke cans where Deborah sat were the only servants in the room. I gloated in my gluttony.
I could have waived my hand, dismissing both subjects and servants, but I wanted to make an example of someone. I ordered the coke cans to bring me a saucer, but neither can moved. I raised my voice again, pounding the table. The cans revolted. The cups and saucers rallied around them. I was outnumbered, the only man in the room. I cursed my misfortune.
–Poem by Eric Blanchard
–Photography by Michela Riva