fingernails raze the length of our nails is the surest sign of the passage of time. the matrix builds the nail plate that covers it, new cells pushing out layers of what's old and spent. the only part still living is the deeper dermis that can't be felt. it's the same colour as the rest of us, but hidden behind a barrier of translucent protein. pink gemstones, every one. 211025 ... ovenbird My children discard bits of themselves everywhere, molting hair and fingernails as the seasons change and they grow into whatever it is they will become. Half_moon scales of keratin find their way into the warp and weft of my warmest socks and stab the unsuspecting arch, reminding me that even what is dead can find a way to wound. 251104 what's it to you? who go blather from