I've become really hung up on the idea of garbage nowadays.
Like so many different things, all abandoned, thrown away, deemed useless for their flaws, defects, or just the passage of time, owned by no one.
some people can salvage them, but most of them meet a fiery death, or return to the earth.
Or they can be transformed, given a purpose again.
It's like every piece of garbage has a story behind it. Lost dreams, like the things floating in the river Styx?
I also like writing about failures now. Maybe because their stories are more interesting than those who always win.

... Or maybe this is simply because I feel like a failure. Or a piece of garbage.