I enjoy watching the movie of the moths
on my window screen. How absurd
they look, sitting so still,
absorbing the light, or wanting to
get at it. Sitting is the form their longing takes.
Somewhere, people press against a wall, trying to take in
something from the other side.
- June 15, 2009
Terrible, but a work in progress. I haven't gotten to the molten center yet.
I've been contemplating how to write about someone I used to know, the language to use to describe a connection's decay. When did we stop being friends? How gradually did this happen? There was a moment when we were the closest people in each other's lives, and then we stopped. Now it's nothing but artifice every time we see each other, which hasn't been for a while.
Anyway, it was her birthday today. She is now 21.
it sounds as though you have the necessary emotions within you to be able to write it. keep searching your mind, it will come.
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