The cat that killed it not the rat. Bad idea to bite back; should’ve run away.
And she’s curled up on a fleece, hard against my knee, purring in her sleep, like butter wouldn’t melt … couldn’t melt — she’s so cold — stone killer — bitter and so sweet.
At my age I have billions more new cells and trillions of times more new molecules than I had in my body when I was born. My body now has day-old cells, year-old cells, and only a relatively small proportion of decades-old cells (found in parts of my brain). Most of my body is much younger than the day I was born. And yet …
The only cells that are immortal are cancer cells … so I’m not into that. Decay and rot and saprophytic life is …
But … the valley below here feels as though it is drowning in, choking on, being smothered, by life. Everything is eating everything else, the atoms go round … and round … and round … Saṃsāra.
But … we are discrete … gross … quantum shit dissolves in the real world … Tarantino stylee … and we die and rejoin the flow of … stuff.