• Carly Feinman

Day 73- 11.28.20


It started as a joke when I lived in

Bushwick and couldn’t afford to

turn on the heat.

I’d turn on the video I found online

of a slow fire burning and

I’d laugh and laugh as my

toes froze through the night.

Anyone can watch it.

It’s a video of a fire, likely birchwood,

burning in real time for

eight straight hours,

all the while an acoustic guitar arrangement

of holiday classics are calmly strumming along.

It’s undoubtedly soothing yet

delightfully tacky—a double whammy for

our guilty pleasure receptors.

It’s not rocket science. It’s not magic and it’s not even all that surprising.

But when I close my eyes

I can feel the flames warm

the soft flesh of my eyelids.

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