Alone on a table is a salt cellar. The glass glints in the sunlight, just a little, light dancing captures in its folds, and a faint rainbow appears.

Each grain of salt is a dried out tear, a million or more closeted inside, lost by those who have realised time is short; time is lean.

Pick up that cellar and shake it, shake it clean, release the sadness of us all, release us from the fear we live here, and breathe.