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  • i chase the weight of the moments after rainfall


    where the world is restored to its former peace, albeit heavier, and the only sounds are the whispers of wayward droplets being tossed down from the treetops to join their minuscule sea

  • imagine with me, if you will, a snowfall.

    the catastrophic peace of a winter morning, grey skies and icy windows framed by flakes laid to rest

    frostbitten breezes wind through heavy-laden branches, sending clouds of snow swirling through the air as if from a powder-puff against a grandmother's cheek

    wandering rays of sunlight find their way through the cloud cover

    and it's beautiful.

  • sometimes i speak to men and women just as a little girl speaks to her doll. she knows, of course, that the doll does not understand her, but she creates for herself the joy of communication through a pleasant and conscious self-deception.

  • he loved her like the sea loved the stars. from afar; and from her perspective, quietly. reflective and beautiful, a silent ballet of ripples and smiling patterns scattered across the waves.

    from his, it was a roaring and chaotic love. constantly moving, and always full. swells and crashes of emotion when he would see her. he'd hide from her behind the clouds and feel his storm inside him, and when the clouds would clear, and the waves would fall back, he would peek through the clouds and see her again, calm and beautiful as ever.

    and then when the sea was still, each star reflecting perfectly on its surface, sometimes she would smile back. the twinkle of a star flitting across the sky. a wink that said "i love you too."

    but they would never touch.