Monday, April 28, 2003

Last few days. Pity it doesn’t feel so. This is the end as I never knew it. Non-cloying, resolute and cold. Cutting the tassels and pulling the strings.

And there are people I bump into on every street. Faces I know, rhythms I perceive and bumps I criss-cross. Will I come back and what if I do, will I come back to?
Will I lose the language and slur the intonations? Will I forget that the path down here is a one-way street? Will I have to be explained every nuance and corner? And will I ever muster courage to cross the road?

A whole new world out there, but I like the limitations of this one that I’ve built. The surety of slowness and the necessity of ritual.
I don't know where to start. I've come back to where I came from. I feel like a tour guide. Walked on the edge way too often to belong. I have the funny tales and the punchlines and the spots on the map. But I don't travel this road anymore. I have day and by night, in terror and comprehension, from the mountains and the seas.

A million starlit skies on the errors of my life.