Saturday, September 12, 2009

Sometimes one needs a corner. Or an attic under the stairs. Some darkness. Some candles. A match. A pencil. A few torn papers. And a story.

So quiet today. And so dark.

The nature of sorrow is immensely difficult to comprehend. It needs little reason and it comes to stay awhile. It is seductive and soft and demands no work. It merely asks that you stay still. I am still.
Song for the Rain