human, being; human, (no longer) being

she imagined dragging her tongue along the gritty cracked surface of the brick wall that she sat with her back to every day; up the columns and along the rows and in the thin lines of grout between bricks. the taste, or rather, the way she imaged in the taste to be - sort of metallic and sort of like dirt - made her nerves and anxiety soften some. other times when she would sigh and lean back in to the wall she imaged doing it with gusto, with fervor, with loud cracks until the back of her skull began to bleed. she was mature and intellectual but she was, for an artist anyway, surprisingly ineffective at being introspective.

human, being, human, being, she would write on everything