Four blue eyes.
Baby onesies scrubbed with dish soap and lying out to dry in the sun.
The sink full of dishes, then empty, then full again.
Two brown beds (one of them pink) and a play mat with a tiny baby in the mirror and a very frustrating dangling acorn.
An imagination littered with thoughts about history's corpses and corpuses, and a blinking cursor on a white page.
What a small world it was this week. But an infinite one.