Wednesday 4 March 2015

Journal # 03.04.15

Wednesday. Subtle forms passing through. The migration of shadow figures towards the darker side of the earth. They cannot stand the light. Some were resting in my closet. You might call it hiding, but it was after dark and nothing to hide from. I tend to keep my apartment light enough to see, dark enough to hold a mystery. I was blending some wild blueberries in the kitchen, and accidentally caught some stray entity in my smoothie. This misfortune was allayed by the wonderful taste and texture of subtle form.
I drank the blue potion and watched the shadow play in the closet. I sat down on my couch, took a deep breath and waited for the sound of the water boiling. My hands ran across my denim knees. The steam began to whistle through the spout. My tongue, blueberry blue. A sudden remarkable insight arrived, at the bottom of my wild blueberry potion. I can call on my family for encouragement. For help. I can literally pick up the phone and call my mom or my dad or my brother or my aunt or my cousin, not for anything other than to feel the connection. The blood rights. The raison d'etre. A lucky one, am I...

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