The healing continues. Of both body and mind and the various social areas of my life. A shock like a lightning bolt sent through my entire existence rattled me quite badly and only now is the buzzing diminishing. We struggle against many things in our daily lives while making commitments to remaining constant. The worlds we create, the worlds we float between, from when we wake up, to when we go to work, to when we work and play and find time alone all overlap, like the most complex Venn diagram, and it’s difficult to realize that if one part of it falters, the effects are felt in each area. And on the opposite, if one is happy, if one is healthy, if one is inspired the effects emanate, just like that lightning bolt, from one area to the next. We trick ourselves into thinking we can truly separate areas of our lives from each other.
Re-doing this project makes me aware of this, as I cut and paste and repost these entries without editing and try to remember everything that was happening to me all those years ago when I was writing each entry. I think it’s allowing me to see my current situation / context of living a bit clearer.
Number 73 is one of my favourite entries in this entire project.
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130 Tales
# 71 – 80
71. She finds it hard to keep her face straight. It’s as if the muscles grew too large overnight, like gravity doubled its hold.
72. The door swings open, although you wouldn’t notice it. A mystery enters the room, nameless until a hand lights the lamp.
73. He doesn’t know where the day went. All he knows is that it’s night again and he said he wouldn’t do this anymore.
74. She laces her boot on the bench while her friend, hands busy zipping up her winter coat, scans the road, cautious of strange eyes.
75. He was a silhouette against a lit room. Staring at the city with borrowed eyes he took time to personally address his audience.
76. He could see all the stories spilling out of its ripped leather. And as he knelt before the briefcase the world melted away.
77. She could see him. She noticed him but he couldn’t notice her. Where was she?
78. The split wooden staircase climbs the hillside like a crab. They lead to a house holding onto the earth for its life.
79. It was like opening a time capsule, that one you prepared when we were children. I didn’t expect it to be that bright.
80. A haze descends on the city, coating its people’s screams with a deaf cage and an unfriendly cold.
Past Decades:
a field of crowns 