I am left with nothing but insatiable awe. And no, it’s not enough, and it won’t be, at least not on this juncture of time. I don’t know if my linear prison will ever shatter, and conjoin the other trail, that runs parallel to this one. I wish it so. Because let me tell you, these tunnels run side by side, and I know them both soundly. And in the other, we waltz eternally to the harmony that echoes through our friction. I don’t know if the means for juxtaposition will be established, but I wish it so.
I do know, though, that purity finds solace within her eyes. Undoubtfully, grace in a method of upmost beauty flows through her. She was standing on the side of the road, with a certain inadequacy, a tender fashion, awkwardly, almost shamefully. And that, in itself, is the most unseen, but prized quality in this overwhelming sea of artificiality.
The seconds that I dared explore her smile were most generous in their illustration, in their precious illumination. Yes, the sorrow is daring, and unforgiving, but gorgeous in its display of innocence. There has not been a single moment of my trite existence that has basked in such an overwhelming desire to relieve and to protect. Never have I felt such a zealous impulse to somehow, and at any cost, salvage an endangered light-beam.
Darling, I would kill to lick your wounds.
Monday, March 17, 2008
momis
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1 comment:
bern,
i really liked this. this may not have a plot, as some would argue in out lovely english class, however, thats not the point of this. cortazar, borges, hemingway, sedaris - many a writer has written short stories lacking such a trivial dynamic.
its a story.
but as i was saying, i liked this. i just think you should work ont the whole perspective shit, cause it changes from first to second and back to first.
do it.
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