i do not
feel like looking for pictures for this, so i’ll draw it for you with words. my dress
is sea green. old, faded. it was softer when it was new, but i didn’t know it
then. i used to be afraid to show my knees. not consciously afraid, but wary.
without knowing, i would decide against it. but it is summer now. and even
before it was, i discovered them, like they had never really been there to me
before… someone living right across the hall for twenty years and all of the
sudden, one day, they choose to introduce themselves. no more awkward, casual
head knods or exchanges of misdelivered mail. i like having them around. they’re
very… supportive. (i laugh at myself… it’s a very good thing to be able to do...) it is like
exploring the mind of a child, but this child has all of my experiences. this
child is intentionally retrogressing, but she doesn’t appear stupid, not even
foolish. just… pure, natural, creative, enthusiastic, unhindered, a picture of
invinsibility; yet she handles everything with care, with a retrospective
gentility. a grown-up would say, “oh it’s so refreshing!” and the little girl
would look at her without a word, for only as long as she had to. she is all of
these things, but she is still vulnerable. she knows that she’s looking back,
that there is nothing she can do to change what has happened, that only she can
see that world as she sees it, that she can’t stay. melancholy can live here.
nastalgia, grief, regret. it looks like a polaroid picture, a whole slew of
them in quick animation. all of these things…. she visits them because they are
a part of her, or maybe she is a part of them. (do you visit your mother? do
you tease your brother?) what can
live here isn’t necessarily what does. not all the time…. off-white
sheets and summer nights. the curves of my feet and how they feel in the grass.
toes first, gracefully. i won’t
deny that people have to grow up. but really, it’s like tissue paper rolling
away in the breeze of a fan. it’s real enough as it is, but there are so many
things to do with it. it is not to be
wasted, and it is not to be viewed as though we’re looking through one end of a
toilet paper tube at the tile on the side of the bathtub. (if you do happen to
be looking through one end of a toilet paper tube at the tile on the side of
the bathtub, you ought to see more than what’s there. it’s a frozen tundra. it’s
an ivory palace. it’s the moon. it’s the uncovered skin of the one you love.
whatever it is, it is not what it seems….) the small
space left between my ring and my finger, and the movement of my hands to hold
on, to comfort. this isn’t
something that you might glimpse through a window. a window, though the glass
is clear, still separates you from what you see. no this, this is like watching
children open Christmas presents, or the world of Le Petit Prince, or a dream
made up of little paper cut-outs. there is a certain truth to them. there is a
certain truth. everything
she thinks, she also creates. for sanity, for life, for simplicity’s sake… you
can imagine any reason and pin it to her brow. she will wear it gladly, for she
cannot change what you see. she would not. she hopes,
and they are concrete things… living pictures, thriving places. but all of it
is very quiet. all of these conversations, all of these inspirations and whims,
these sparks, these steps… they are hers, behind her eyes. so far she is alone
in relishing this experience. someone else must know… and so she is looking,
chasing fireflies, lanterns that cannot burn.
where is your mind,
and where is your soul?
can they be in the same place?
can they see through the same eyes on the same face?
which looks out?
and which looks in?
or do both look around in smooth circles
and spin you to questions unanswerable,
shapeless, and large?
a matter of will.
a matter of time.
a matter of silence external,
shrouding melodies that swell to cacophony within.
orchestrated chaos.
take the stage,
it's yours.
but you may not know the words before you open your lips.
are you ready for that?
all i hear is silence,
but so much life--
so much life!--
is merely resting,
waiting for dawn.
by jeff hanson
Fashion editor Belinda White, said: "Christian Louboutin classic black high-heeled shoes are a popular women's shoes, which they feel sexy.... read more
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