What a strange name ~ papyrus.
Say it again ~ papyrus.
Keep saying it ~ papyrus.
Papyrus.
Papyrus.
Papyrus.
Doesn’t it sound strange? That happens with any word if you say it enough – it starts to sound strange and odd and you wonder how a word came to ever be in the first place – or maybe it’s just my mind reaching its long-predicted breaking point.
Anyway, our pot of papyrus, drainage holes mostly blocked for extra moisture, and which usually does quite well with the regular watering and feeding I give it, failed to astound as it has in previous years. Another disappointing result of this past summer’s waning charm.
Maybe all those perfect summers were never quite as perfect as they seemed, but the factual comparison of this one and the performance of papyrus in the past – strange word again! – lead me to believe that things have inarguably shifted.
No one will pay much attention to that, despite its momentous ramifications.
This blog post will be lost and forgotten.
Papyrus.
