the solo dance party in my living room, my office desk chair, my car, and kitchen, gosh blasting on repeat, is just a bassy distraction; i have to be quiet.
silence and space have always been hard for me – i like to hold all the hard things of the world loud and close until they soften and can be spread out before me. i want to see through them. i want them to see through me.
but today i am quiet, watching the minutes slip closer to that imperceptible moment in which the sun returns to a spot it only finds once a year. four years ago i marked it out from the rest of time –charging down the path toward today – with one simple question. and it's amazing to think that it was just one question that the years and i enthusiastically hog piled ourselves upon.
silence and space have always been hard for me – i like to hold all the hard things of the world loud and close until they soften and can be spread out before me. i want to see through them. i want them to see through me.
but today i am quiet, watching the minutes slip closer to that imperceptible moment in which the sun returns to a spot it only finds once a year. four years ago i marked it out from the rest of time –charging down the path toward today – with one simple question. and it's amazing to think that it was just one question that the years and i enthusiastically hog piled ourselves upon.
the years, they are both my friends and enemies who just don't know how to settle down. and tonight we are a rowdy and unapologetic bunch, with nothing much to do except hang the first thing on the walls of my new home. all the while, the word four, said too many times throughout the day, begins to sound like it's from another language.
