when my lit teacher pointed out that nothing remains was an oxymoron, i couldn't understand why. i understood that nothing can't remain, cause it was nothing. but i didn't get why it was such a significant one
now i do.
as i walk through the halls of albert house, nothing remains.
i see boxes ready to be packed off. yet they are a reminder that there is nothing left.
i see matresses without their sheets. they are nothing
i see desks cleaned out. they are nothing without the photos and stationery on them.
i see a building with nothing.
its a mere shell
its a colossal wreck to me
nothing remains