My mind is craving social interaction.

Here I am, burning the remains of the incense sticks that I've burned for the past month, wishing that I had somebody to have an intelligent conversation with.

The fire is engulfing the sticks and matches, while slowly eating away at the sides of the dead candle that I am burning this in. Slowly, the bottom is filing with a mixture of melted wax and ashes. Soon, the wax will reach the tip of the flame, extinguishing it, only to harden into wax once again. But for now, it will have its fun rising. As I watch, I can see the flame get smaller and smaller as the wax rises gradually. When it was lit, it proceeded to being a roaring flame, but now it is calm, like a candle. The black wax is moving steadily however, rising and falling. I blew out all but the largest flame. It is above the candle's limit. I will let the wax drip slowly down the side of this candle that I have had for years. Now this work of art will be destroyed.

But the destruction of the art is just as artful as the art itself. By letting the wax drip down the side of the candle, it creates a new art form.

But it turns out the wax has diminished the flame too much for it to melt more wax. The art won't be created. Instead, I will have newly black candle wax with no wick.

I stuck incense in the wet wax and am letting it harden. It will be a good incense holder.