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Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Ephemeral


There are certain people, to whom, the notion of time as the world knows it doesn’t exist…their clocks are armless and even though the sun rises and sets as it does normally, with them, in the air around them, the day dissolves into night and to day again like an impressionist painting. And when you enter their world and you sit with them you know you may never want to leave because for all its oddness that timeless-zone sucks you in...but they are charming for the permanence they deny you. for the temporality of their company and their world...for making you feel forever like the tourist. and one fine morning or rainy night that timeless world and it's god leave your life together...as abruptly as they had happened to you. like setting the clocks back or turning it ahead for one hour. As if that whole hour didn't matter. Like the pointless effort of daylight saving on an already dying day. 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Best

The island had that special smell, a sea-smell and that of a warm place that will soon grow into an unbearable heat..but its ever so pleasant now...and I am in a taxi leaving the airport with four strangers delving into what seems like an infinite tunnel only lit by the car headlights, 60 Km later, I'm there. That first night, we have way too many water bottles by the bed and the sheets have that smell of a place uninhabited for a while...the island smell..sea-salt and moths...When I ask you to keep the shades open you warn me of the intensity of the island sun. And we turn out the lights and lie down and it feels like heaven knowing i'm surrounded by the ocean from the north, that We're surrounded by the ocean from the south, that there is water all around us. and it feels great to share the bed with you and familiar to overhear your parents bickering next door..but you've always felt like home to me, from the age of ten, through womanhood, sharing crushes and sharing distances and growing apart and reuniting. But I am already exhausted now at 31 and just want to sleep. "do you think i'm settling?" your velvet voice cheats on the goodnight we exchanged minutes before, it's 1 am, you're parents are gone to catch a burglar somewhere and the house is quiet and our doubts and fears surface. "do you ever think you've settled?" I don't know what to think, digging to answer a question like that feels like a root canal. It's complicated. We are not twelve anymore lusting after the same impossible guy, not knowing exactly how to lust. we have bills and mortgages and we've loved and we've lost already. We should just sleep. We have a herd of camels to run after tomorrow, and dolphins to see jump up the water and sea shells to buy for our darlings. Our darlings are far away now, lusting after anonymous breasts perhaps, working hard perhaps, thinking of us perhaps...
My guts, you always get it and with so much grace that it is hard to find someone safer than you to share the bed with, to share my darks with, to share my lights with.