Perhaps That Is What It

Sometimes I Forget That The World Is Not On The Same Schedule As I. That Everything Is Not Dying, Or That If It Is Dying It Will Return To Life, What With A Little Sun And The Usual Encouragement.

I’ve Always Liked The Feeling Of Traveling Light; There Is Something In Me That Wants To Feel I Could Leave Wherever I Am, At Any Time, Without Any Effort. The Idea Of Being Weighed Down Made Me Uneasy, As If I Lived On The Surface Of A Frozen Lake And Each New Trapping Of Domestic Life - A Pot, A Chair, A Lamp - Threatened To Be The Thing That Sent Me Through The Ice.

Once Upon A Time There Was A Boy Who Loved A Girl, And Her Laughter Was A Question He Wanted To Spend His Whole Life Answering.

Our Kiss Was Niticlimactic. It Wasn't That The Kiss Was Bad, But It Was Just A Note Of Punctuation In Our Long Conversation, A Parenthetical Remark Made In Order To Assure Each Other Of A Deeply Felt Agreement, A Mutual Offer Of Companionship, Which Is So Much More Rare Than Sexual Passion Or Even Love.

Forests, Which I Think Do Contain A Lot Mystery And Traditionally Are The Setting For Lawlessness And Magic And What Is Outside Of The Rational To Some Degree, Are Still Something More Finite. I Guess The Desert And Its Crushing Sense Of Infinite Space Is Part Of Its Connection To The Mystical - On Top Of Making You Dehydrated And Therefore Primed For Visions.