Wednesday, June 6, 2012
An observation of late: The sounds from the rear passenger seat of a mourning car; my eyes fixed on the road.
One physical sense in catatonic observation. Emotion and energy, we are trading without need for verbal exchange. It's the sounds that are held by heavy air.
A terse exhale. Mouths parched. Aperture in drought.
An audible shuddering, similar to one a child makes during the dash between the pool and towel on a cold swimming day.
Silence. An oscillating instruction.
Winded by grief, confusion inspired by the tangible reality of the close and the dead.