I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.no longer writing in the third person
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
I am below everything.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
in a post. I want to be remembered
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.kind of mythopoesis