slntpsych1
I watch as they walk beside me. Trudging through what I trudge through, and resting at the summits I rest at. It helps to feel somebody with their own opinions setting those aside and doing something for you.
The radiation from the sun felt like a cartoon where the evaporation of water bent the light. Stagnant air seemed to cry out for release.
The gates that close off the sunlight open up to a bright day. They blockade the light to keep the innards safe.
The fleece is pierced over and over, like Julius Caesar. But what comes out at the other end isn't the end of a government. It's something new, something brought closer together than ever before. From pain sometimes comes hope.
Making brush strokes as tall as he is, he gently glides the brush along the canvas like a bird amongst clouds.
I pop open the back window as far as it can go. The air feels as warm as a smile from a dear friend. Every so often a car will zoom past and push some air inside the van, always a relaxing feeling.
I can see the individual bricks that make up the tower. Look closely and you can see the cracks that formed and were filled in year after year, trying to make sure you don't notice the problems. So much weight, one on top of another, with another on top of that. Every year I think "there's no way it'll keep standing." Yet it goes on, until its more cracks than actual surface area. It's a wonder how anything stays standing.
Pause. Look closely at the pictures, feeling the motions passing through without actually doing them. Then following. Move with the motion, follow the leader. Step by step, applied carefully. More machine than man, motioning mechanically to make marked momentum on a minimalistic map of models.
My feet feel the strain with ascent. The world feels different at this gradient. It's almost as if the world changes at this angle, even the sky looks different. Less a mass of fluff and sharper, more inhospitable. Air feels weak up here, it has to fight just as much as you do to reach the top. But when the summit hits you, it's like nothing else in the world. Beauty is palpable.
Deep breath in and out. The forest is thick with the scent of pine sap. If it weren't so inconvenient it would smell nice. But picking up the felled logs is sticky business. Gotta get them all though, or there'll be no fire.
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writing since 2010 · 46 entries · 46 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Michael showed up.
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46days written
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the words Michael reaches for
wrongairloseanotherdonesometimesburnedsunalreadywarmthhumansticksmellsafewaterbit