BEGINNINGS /09.09.14/
11:45 AM
#12
Summer began with a bit of a cry. It felt like a three-legged race and tasted like Listerine.
Then flying, and lakes, ice, yellow, blue, spring rolls, midnights.
Spit and rinse.
That's what I thought, and in that order, as I passed floor to ceiling glass windows on my way to board KE905, which would take me away from the borders of one country and set me down, following a subsequent train ride or two, onto the teetering edge of another. We closely monitor the state of the sky. How it is in various intersections of x and y, of time and thought. Or maybe it's space...slippery slippery math. We're failing matchmakers that invent new words and haphazard ways to assemble them to vaguely resemble...a feeling? So there must be seven hundred and twelve new ways of describing the sky with these words. We throw fistfuls of them into the thing itself and watch them flutter down like confetti, the colors all melting into one another. Everything frays and everything flutters as she unravels the dark, endless blue from her shoulders (this is a very intimate moment). Another drink, extra ice.
The world is strange and wonderful.
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