200 CCs - June 2016

A Little Light Pruning
by Soren James
The depression is getting to me. Of course, I
mean the depression in my leg from sitting on
this stone.
I don’t allow for the other type of depression—
it’s too expensive. From its weight alone I’m
guessing it must cost several thousand dollars. I
doubt I could afford more than half an ounce
of depression per week.
So how am I to survive? Roving happily
through life—a weightless drifter
through circumstance—no longer
standing out or drawing attention to
the depth of my existence. I guess
I’ll have to face a life of increasing
irrelevance to myself and others,
likely ending up forgotten—firstly
by myself, then the rest of the
world.
I move. That’s why I won’t move—the fear of
there being nothing there. A fear of my
disappearance from this planet.
Stay very still and keep a handle on this self of
yours. Keep a tight grip. Well done—you’re
maintaining yourself now. I can feel the weight
of me. I know who I am and where I am.
Two days later, a doctor arrived. The
lack of circulation had caused
gangrene in my leg and it would
have to be amputated.
Much like the depression in
my leg which will disappear if
Soren James is a writer and visual artist who recreates himself on a daily basis from the materials at his disposal,
continuing to do so in an upbeat manner until one day he will sumptuously throw his drained materials aside and
resume stillness without asking why. More of his work can be seen at sorenjames.moonfruit.com.
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