richard_simmons raze a woman named her island for a gun that fired a prelude to the moon. she wrote something once about a man who might have been the most famous promoter of weight loss programs to ever draw breath. there are small stories that fan out into larger, deeper stories you'll never know. this was one of those. what i was allowed to see stabbed me in the heart and left a scar that must look like a freckle now to anyone who cares enough to tunnel that deep into me. only i know what it is, and why it's there, and how it came to be. i forget most of the details of its making. there was a woman. she made dolls. she kept leaving them on richard simmons' doorstep. all he knew of her was her name. ellen. the dolls kept getting thinner and more haggard. at some point, he realized she was letting him into her private pain. the degradation of her tiny doppelgangers charted the slow erosion of their architect. when the gifts stopped coming, he felt like he'd failed someone he didn't even have the chance to know. i'd read that post again if i could. fill in whatever fissures time has made in my memory. but it's gone now, and not even the wayback_machine knows where the bones are buried. 240714 what's it to you? who go blather from