And so it begins again, the collection of dust.
Every time that I clean my room, the moment that I finish, and moments within, and moments during, I notice the motes of dust that materialise or resettle on the desk, on the floor, on the shelf that I have just swept and wiped. And as I notice, and as I watch, I smile – for that is the point.
And so it begins again, immediately, to softly settle in the sweeping wake, the collection of dust.
