For the ones who notice the flame.
The strike of a match is its own small ceremony. The resistance of wood against striker, the sudden bloom of flame — bright, alive, briefly perfect — and then the slow curl of smoke as it fades into the dark. Twenty matches. One glass vial. A cork lid and a striker on the bottom. Everything needed to begin, held in the palm of your hand.
For the ones who notice the flame.
The strike of a match is its own small ceremony. The resistance of wood against striker, the sudden bloom of flame — bright, alive, briefly perfect — and then the slow curl of smoke as it fades into the dark. Twenty matches. One glass vial. A cork lid and a striker on the bottom. Everything needed to begin, held in the palm of your hand.
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