Wednesday, April 6, 2011

04.06.11 | Those Voices...

You see… the thing is—you know that voice inside your head that awakens and starts talking when it thinks you’re doing something wrong? Well, I’ve got multiple voices in my head. And they all conflict with one another. And they’re absurdist.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

04.05.11 | Message in a Bottle

What am I? I’m a glass bottle with a message inside of it. I’m bobbing about on the surface of the sea, on this sempiternal dividing line between the waters and the air, between reality and fantasy. Sometimes I see more sky, sometimes I see more fish. I’m being washed around, pushed by wind, by current, by all sorts of creatures, to do this, do that, not this, not that, but water never leaks in through my head—the cap’s screwed on too tight.

But what’s the message in the bottle, the heart of my existence? I don’t know yet. It’s still waiting to be found, read, and appreciated.

04.05.11 | Just the Two of Us

I dreamed we were geese. We were sitting there in the grass, just the two of us, neither of us talking, but both fully understanding the other, without words. The sea breeze smelled of tears that day.

Monday, April 4, 2011

04.04.11 | Just Shoot

She loved taking photos. Just for the fun of it. She didn’t care about how artistic her photographs would turn out or what she could do to make them “prettier”: they captured the teensiest points of time that would have otherwise slipped away, forgotten, abandoned, thrown into the realm of all the other things—whether joyous or tragic—consigned to oblivion, because she knew that behind every point lived a story.