Walking Again
“We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds & expectations, to burst open & give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so.”
Michael Cunningham, The Hours
The moss grew when the footpaths emptied. Complete defeat. Hand it over dudes. I know you have your troubles too. We all have our humanness and powerlessness to contend with. The most patient man in the world, the local drug and alcohol councillor withstands it. The hair on our heads keeps growing. We go on.
My life started with a smashed window. I have the scars and the microsurgery bill. Let’s not do that again. What is your limit? How much can you handle before you reach maximum capacity? Caravans stay in place. you shall not have holidays forever more. Sit the fuck down and take a good long hard look at yourself. Waiting to be led, or have I already but resist?
The goddamn daisy’s flowered in the wrong season. I am a daisy, and the frost got me too. This space is now empty, and we must start all over again.
