we used to yearn for simplicity.
we'd say, I'd like to go here and there and away from this...away from it all. see the earth and watch what blooms by morning and dies by night...I'd say, Oh, Morning Glory...and you would understand.
what were we looking to escape, though? small towns? big cities? insincerity? our own awareness?
now, I'm perfectly comfortable positioned here, this way, in this place, with all of this concrete, this glass, these metal scraps.
I don't know where to place my hands anymore, in my lap, behind my back, in your hand...
I've never been more suspicious.
I've never felt more displaced, more foreign, more... expendable.
thinking and feeling and never knowing which or whether are causing harm or happiness. your words were always so poignant but I didn't know then that you were a writer.
there was this earthly aspect to you...
you were strong like the oak tree, fluid like the ocean, gleaming like the sun.
there was never another quite like you.
I wish we could stop getting older, I wish this place didn't change us like it does.
I'm stepping out and aside now to try and remember why I came and what's more what I'll do now that I'm staying.