In each chain of passage, there was the lesser hair; a piece of hair torn from its scalp. Strings of hair once with a confusing twine now uprooted and thrown to the ground. They were the honest pieces that enjoys the blown rhythm of a breath. They dance to express yet their expressions were misinterpreted as disturbance.
The lesser hair can be found on the floor, clogs in the bathroom drainage, and stuck on sink screen. The lesser hair was a dirt, a garbage, and no other purpose. Weaving a lesser hair makes it even lesser.
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Behind The Fabricated Curtain
Non-FictionA series of short stories consist of a personal perspective in the modern world.
