When we were little, my mother invented a game for us to play. She’d write a sentence at the top of a piece of paper and say “This is as small as I can write” and then the next player would write a sentence in slightly smaller handwriting and say “This is as small as I can write” and you’d pass the page to the next player and if they couldn’t read your writing you’d be out. And you’d continue round and round the table until either everyone was out or you reached the bottom of the page and it was so filled up with tiny writing there was no where else for your writing to go.

None of my brothers or sisters remember this game at all when I mention it. And none of them ever really liked it back then anyway. But I always loved it and I never stopped playing, even if for most of my life the only person I’ve been competing against is myself.

I bought magnifying glasses and microscopes and ultrahard ultrasharp pencils and even thinner pens, and etching equipment and even a cutting laser at one point, always trying to better my last sentence, to beat my last score.

Now I’m down to atoms there’s nowhere else to go.

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Notes:

1. Written on September 23rd, 2016

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